By Any Other Name
by Flaignhan
Summary: When Hermione receives an unexpected visitor, she is reluctant to accept his proposal. How long can she keep secrets for, how long can she continue to lie to her friends for, and how long will it be before she is betrayed? Spoilers for HBP. DMHG.
1. Prologue

**By Any Other Name. **

**by Flaignhan.

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**

Prologue.

Hermione Granger wandered clumsily down the stairs, her right leg seeming much heavier than her left. She gripped the wooden banister to stop herself from stumbling down the stairs and causing much unneeded damage to herself and leant against the wall momentarily as she sorted herself out.

She arrived in the kitchen, and put a couple of pieces of bread in the toaster, noticing that it was past nine o'clock – both her parents were at work. Crookshanks strolled lazily up to her and wound himself around her legs, trying to get some attention from his owner. Hermione crouched down and scratched him behind his ears, earning herself a satisfied purr and a look of content from her cat.

She unwillingly shivered as the memory of her last few days at Hogwarts floated back into her memory. She hadn't told her parents she was leaving home yet. She hadn't told them that she was most likely going to end up tortured or killed by the most evil wizard that history had ever recorded, or by one of his pathetic, narrow minded, dependant, glory seeking peons.

No, _of course_ she hadn't mentioned that.

Nor had she mentioned that her headmaster was now encased in a white tomb in the Hogwarts grounds, or that there had been a horrific battle in what was, supposedly, the safest place in Britain.

She _had_ mentioned, however, that she would not be returning to school in September, causing her mother to gasp and her father frown at her in a confused way. Of course they thought it was the result of simple things, bullies, finding the workload too easy, arguments with friends… They didn't realise of course that they were preposterous ideas, none of those factors had ever halted her studies before, and now that she was an official witch, (having come of age at the beginning of her last school year) such problems were laughable.

No, she had not told them a thing, and felt rather guilty about it.

She showered and dressed as per usual, pulling an orange v-neck jumper over her white vest, before plucking a few ginger cat hairs from her dark jeans. These days, Hermione actually looked like an adult, rather than a constantly worrying, frizzy haired, teenage girl who was more often than not seen carrying a number of books in her thin arms.

She had grown up.

Or rather, she'd had to.

She sighed, running her fingers through her thick tangle of bushy hair, which, although still an annoyance, had calmed down a fair bit over the last couple of years. She supposed it was her hormones settling down as she neared the end of her teen years. She lifted a strand away from her head and frowned as she looked in the mirror. Her hair really could do with a bit of a trim, it was getting quite long. She let go of the brown lock that she had twined between her fingers and it fell back into place. Well, as into place as it could be, when her hair was as unkempt as it was. She patted it down half heartedly and let her thoughts wander back to the impossible task that had been plaguing her mind ever since she'd stepped off the Hogwarts Express.

She would be going to The Burrow soon enough. From there they would go to Harry's aunt and uncle's, as Dumbledore had requested, and then on to Godric's Hollow, and from there…she had no idea.

She heard a loud _crack_ and looked out of her window sharply, causing her neck to click in a most unpleasant way. She knew the sound of apparition anywhere. Was it Harry? No…he hadn't passed his test…he hadn't even come of age yet. Not that that would bother him. Ron also hadn't passed his test, but it was unlikely that that would bother him either. A member of the Order, perhaps? No, they were far too concerned with tracking Death Eaters and avoiding death at the moment. She didn't have the slightest clue as to who it would be, and she put her hands quickly into her pockets to stop them from shaking. No one knew where she lived…they couldn't trace her…could they?

She froze as the door bell rang, the traditional Westminster chime echoing inside her head. It all seemed too horribly and utterly _normal_. She snatched up her wand from her desk; cast the strongest protection charm that she knew on herself (which rebounded everything except the Unforgivables, another thought that made her shiver unwillingly) and made her way slowly downstairs.

She opened the door a tiny bit, and her eyes widened. She had been right to be cautious, but she opened the door fully now, causing her caller to fall flat on his face in the hallway.

Blonde hair splayed around his head, and she noticed that there were frequent blotches of dry blood on his horribly pale skin. He looked like he hadn't showered since…since the night he'd left with Snape.

Biting her lip worriedly, resembling her younger self ever so slightly, she dragged him fully into the house, and shut the door, casting several locking charms on it.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, wondering why, exactly, there was an unconscious Draco Malfoy lying at her feet.

* * *


	2. Chapter One: Understanding

**By Any Other Name. **

**by Flaignhan.

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**

Chapter One: Understanding.

She'd considered killing him then and there, only to find herself instead levitating him into the sitting room, before plonking him down on the sofa in a rougher than necessary fashion.

She rid him of all his injuries with a quick wave of her wand, cast a cleaning charm on him, so he no longer looked as though he had been dipped in mud and other unpleasant things, before hesitantly, oh so hesitantly, she revived him.

His wand was lying on the coffee table so she was quite safe, she had decided.

Well, moderately safe.

Well, as safe as one could be with a known Death Eater lying on her cream leather sofa.

Besides, even with wands, she could out-duel him any day.

She hoped.

He opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, his eyes slightly unfocussed and trying to concentrate on her image. She was sitting cross legged on the floor next to the sofa, wand held in her hand, which, for the first time in years, did not shake with nerves or worry.

"Give me a reason as to why you don't deserve to be dead already," she said, rather conversationally, as though asking for a reason as to why she should go to McDonald's, rather than Burger King.

She hated both places of course.

He sat up suddenly, causing her to quickly get to her feet, wand pointing directly at him. "Who did you come with?" He looked at her, his gaze unflinching. She noticed some emotion in his eyes that she knew he would hate for her to see. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but knew she had seen it somewhere before, in someone else's eyes. "I could kill you right now."

"Killing isn't nearly as easy as the innocent believe," he said finally. "You won't do it." The words seemed to remind her of someone…someone wise, and unbelievably intelligent. Yes, it was the sort of thing Albus Dumbledore would say.

_Would have said_. She reminded herself, her throat tightening uncomfortably as she did so.

"Who else is with you?" She demanded again.

"No one."

"And I believe that because…" she trailed off, waiting for him to give her a reason, however small and insignificant it might be, not to end his miserable little life then and there.

But he was right. Killing is nowhere near as easy as the innocent believe.

"Because otherwise they would have stormed the house and carried you off already…" She knew in the back of her mind this was true, but what if they were biding their time, trying to lull her into a false sense of security? She did not lower her wand. "For heaven's sake Granger, I came here to tell you he's after you!"

"Of course he is, I'm friends with Harry."

"No, he's not just after you for your connections to Potty-"

"Malfoy the Death Eater and he's still calling people pathetic childish names…" she said disgustedly. "When _were_ you planning to grow up exactly?"

"Granger," he growled, his teeth grinding together, "I came here to save your stupid life, and your family, so don't start taunting me…"

"And why would you want to save a mudblood's life?" she asked venomously. "Why, it was only second year that you were wishing a basilisk on me." He looked at her sharply. "It was Harry and Ron," she told him, smirking slightly at the fact that even after all this time he'd still thought it was Crabbe and Goyle. "Polyjuice potion. Oh yes, they heard everything. Even about the secret room under the floor in your drawing room. Not as smart as you like to believe, are you Malfoy?"

"If you're just going to-"

"You," she snarled, "are the reason that Albus Dumbledore is dead. You, have condemned the world to hell, because you're a spineless little boy. You, are the reason that Bill Weasley will never look the same again."

"Do you think I had a choice?" he interrupted before she could continue with her accusations. "My entire family would have been killed, along with yours truly here. You have no _idea_ what the last year has been like for me. And now I try and do something good, like he wanted me to," she didn't ask who 'he' was, she was fairly sure she knew anyway, "you throw it in my face and-"

"What do you expect?" Hermione asked incredulously, her voice raising higher with each and every word. "Why should I trust you anyway?" she asked.

"Because if you don't believe me, the next time you come home, your house will be in ruins, your family will be dead, after being tortured into madness of course, and there'll be someone waiting for you, just to finish the job." Hermione shook her head, not believing him. Not _wanting_ to believe him.

"You're just trying to scare me…" she whispered. She had lost all confidence, her voice shook with fear and she felt the colour drain from her face. She was probably as pale as Malfoy now…

"I'll get started on my 'I told you so' speech then shall I? Would you like me to read it at your funeral or-"

"Shut _up,_" she demanded.

"Granger, you've got to trust-" She cut him off.

"What so you can feed me false information and then I end up walking straight into Death Eater HQ?" she asked, half laughing at his naivety. "No, I'll pass on that offer Malfoy. Thanks very much though, I'm sure it'd be a very worthwhile endeavour…" She could see he was becoming frustrated with her, but she didn't care. How _dare_ he come to her home, after all he'd done, and suggest that she trust him?

No, Hermione Granger was not stupid enough to fall for that.

She had however, decided that she would protect her parents' house as much as she could as soon as she could. Perhaps she could get Professor Flitwick to help her with it…

"Granger…" she was sick of hearing the sound of her own surname coming from his constantly curled lips.

"I'm leaving here soon anyway, so you can tell your _master_ or whatever you and your pathetic pals are calling him these days-"

"For goodness sake Granger!" Malfoy erupted, "You know the Dark Lord doesn't work like that! When has he ever worked like that? Potter going to the Ministry last summer for example, why did he go? Cos Sirius _Black_" he spat the surname with some disgust, "was apparently being tortured. He won't trick you, he'll do it for real, he'll lure you here and then zap, you're dead, just like your parents. With two words." He looked away from her awkwardly and Hermione was trying her hardest not to believe him. Yes, she knew her and her family were in danger. Voldemort knew about her connections to Harry, knew that she would be of great help to Harry, if she was killed then some of the threat would disappear, and Harry was bound to go in, with no thought whatsoever, and try to kill him, whether he'd found the horcruxes or not.

"How did you find me?" she asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"It was easy, I put a tracking charm on an owl and sent it to your house."

"But an owl hasn't come here…"

"It didn't have a letter to deliver you _dolt_." Hermione frowned. She'd never even thought of something so atrociously simple. She made a very urgent mental note to look up untraceable spells later on that afternoon. She was sure she'd read about wizards placing untraceable spells on themselves. She realised Malfoy was frowning at her, and glared back at him, remembering he had just called her a dolt.

"Can you act like an adult, just for a second?" she asked exasperatedly. He scowled at her, but said nothing.

"Can I have some water?" he asked, causing Hermione to stop thinking about untraceable spells for the second time in a matter of minutes. He then added as an after thought, "Please."

Hermione summoned a glass from the kitchen and a jet of water gushed from her wand tip and into the glass. She gave him the glass without saying a word.

"Ok," she said finally, her tone businesslike and purposeful. "Let's say for a second you _are_ telling the truth. Why would you want to help me of all people?"

"Because you're the best witch to come out of Hogwarts for years," Hermione raised her eyebrows at the reluctant compliment, but he didn't pay any attention to her facial expressions. "You're still young, and hopefully, for the Dark Lord, still weak." Hermione made and indignant noise and earned herself a tut in return. "If he can overpower you, make you into one of his own, you'd probably be the most powerful Death Eater in his service. And you'd be able to tell him everything about Potter. You could be so valuable to him…"

"And why don't you want that happening?"

"Don't you get it? I'm going to be killed by him one way or another. I don't believe a word he says but while my family are still in his control I have to act like it. I've been studying occlumency all year, just so he won't get into my head and realise. Christ Granger, you don't realise the position I'm in!"

"You had a choice a long time ago," she replied, not meeting his eyes. "Dumbledore offered you and your family protection-"

"And then Snape burst in and killed him!" He sighed in frustration. He couldn't blame her for not believing a single word he said, and she knew it too, but he was getting slightly tired of this game. If only she'd just make her mind up… "Look," he said with another sigh, "I know if I try to help Potter or Weasel they'll kill me as soon as they see me. Understandable…but not justified." Hermione snorted in disbelief, of course killing Malfoy was justified, wasn't it? "But I know you, and you've got some sense. If I had you on my side then things would be so much easier," Hermione interrupted him.

"If you had me on your _side_? So really you just want to use me? I shouldn't have expected anything less…"

"And you'll be using me! To get information, to find out who's next for the afterlife, you'll be one step ahead of the game-" It annoyed her how lightly he was talking about people who could die in the next few months. Treating it as one big game. But, she relented, that's what it was really, wasn't it? It was like a big game of chess, carefully marked out plans of attack, both sides putting their all into winning. Dark versus the light. But even so, to _joke_ about such things…

"But it all comes back to the trust thing doesn't it?" she sighed. When had things become so horribly and utterly complicated?

Probably the moment Professor McGonagall had come to her door to tell her she was a witch.

"Unbreakable vow?" Malfoy suggested.

"We all know they cause more trouble than not…" She sat down on the sofa, head in her hands. Was he manipulating her? Did he suggest the vow to make him _look_ trustworthy, knowing full well she'd refuse? It was the sort of thing Malfoy would do…but was he smart enough to have worked that out on his own? But what if he hadn't worked it out on his own? Either way she was in a difficult situation and she either had to take the risk or…forget it. Forget Malfoy. Leave him to go.

But…there was the possibility that he _was_ telling the truth. Harry _did_ say that he lowered his wand before the other Death Eaters burst into the tower…

Either way she would be no worse off than she was now. If she believed him, then she didn't have to do anything he said, and Voldemort would delight in killing one of the Boy Who Lived's friends anyway. Either way, she would be hunted down.

"I'm not going to believe you without proof, I mean…oh you are such a git," she sighed, before holding out her hand. He shook it firmly and her eye caught his.

She knew what the glint in his eye was now. She'd seen it in Sirius' eyes that night in the Shrieking Shack. Fear. And remorse. And just about every other bad emotion one could feel without exploding.

He was terrified of the future.

For the first time in her life, Hermione Granger knew exactly how Draco Malfoy was feeling.

"Let's get some things straight," she stated, as she set a plate of food in front of him, ignoring the absurdity of the situation. Draco Malfoy, sitting at her kitchen table, eating some soup and sandwiches that had just been made by her. "Firstly, we stop the name calling. Or rather, _you_ stop the name calling. I hardly need to stop as I never started in the first place. Secondly, if you so much as _mention_ the word 'mudblood' or say any similar jibes about my heritage, rest assured that I will write to Voldemort personally and tell him what you've been up to."

"What about when I'm in the presence of Death Eaters? I have to act you know."

"Yes, I know that. But when you don't have to hide behind a mask, you treat me with respect. Understood?" He nodded, and she noticed it wasn't as reluctant as she thought it'd be.

"I've got some rules too," he began. "You are not allowed to breathe a word of this…truce, to anybody. Not even Potter or Weasley." Hermione nodded. She hadn't even thought about it anyway. She knew how they'd react. It was a situation that was best avoided, in Hermione's opinion.

"And my only other rule, is _if_ you have a run in with my mother-"

"I won't hurt her. And I'll make sure no one else does. Your father on the other hand…"

"Is fair game," agreed Malfoy. "And as for dear old Aunt Bella…" Hermione felt her throat tighten, and her fingers twitched, itching to grab her wand and find Bellatrix herself, torture her, kill her, give her everything she deserved. Neville's parents, Sirius, just a few of her victims. As much as she wanted to completely destroy Bellatrix, she knew Harry would get there first, so planning how she was going to make her suffer was pointless.

Hermione looked up at Malfoy and realised he was still talking. She shook her head and blinked. Reality came flooding back and Malfoy frowned at her.

"You didn't listen to a word I just said did you?" Hermione shook her head and Malfoy sighed dramatically. "It doesn't matter." He took a bite out of his sandwich and chewed it rapidly. Evidently he had not eaten in days.

While he ate, Hermione wrote a letter to Professor Flitwick, asking him to help her protect her parents. The main spell she had planned upon was the Fidelius Charm, but if he had other suggestions as well, it would be useful. She sent the letter with an owl her parents had bought in the middle of last year, in order to keep in touch, and settled down at the kitchen table once more.

"I don't suppose…" Hermione didn't finish her sentence, and Malfoy looked up from his soup, waiting expectantly for her to continue.

"Yes?" he prompted, after she did not carry on with her speculation.

"I don't suppose Voldemort's told you about how he's managed to stay alive all this time has he?" She decided not to reveal the truth to him,

"Well he's not human anymore is he?" Malfoy said as he resumed eating, "so he can't die…well, not in the normal fashion. Why? What do you know?" he asked shrewdly, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Don't worry," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"I'm not worrying, I'm curious. Share the news, Granger." Hermione shook her head. "Oh come on!"

"I don't know anything!" she said defensively. "Why would I ask if I already knew?"

"You wanted to see if I knew more," he answered perceptively. "You can't fool me, Granger."

Hermione sighed, annoyed at his ability to interpret things. It was something she was not used to, especially in the majority of males she'd come into contact with during the course of her life. Ron was living proof.

The only exception to the rule, she conceded, had been Professor Dumbledore. But he was a genius anyway, so she wasn't quite sure that he came into the same category as her friends…and enemies.

Was Malfoy still an enemy though? Granted she wouldn't take anything he said at face value, but he hadn't attempted to murder her quite yet, and he'd had plenty of chances. Nor had his Death Eater cohorts stormed the building, firing off unforgivables at every possible angle. Finally, she settled on a rather pleasing fact, which she knew was certain: while Malfoy was intelligent, he was no genius.

They sat at the table for a while longer, not talking to each other, both lost in their own thoughts about what was going to happen to them. Hermione tapped her fingers on the table, her chin resting on the heel of her palm. She was staring off into some corner but she couldn't actually see anything in front of her. She was just looking, not seeing.

Crookshanks had wandered into the kitchen, stretched, and then hopped onto Malfoy's lap. "Your cat has good taste," he told her smugly.

"My cat will get no cream after dinner if he continues to be a traitorous little-"

"Don't punish the cat for having some common sen-" he looked down at his forearm, not needing to slide his sleeve up to know what was burning. Crookshanks jumped off of him immediately, and curled up in his wicker basket.

Malfoy stood up and Hermione frowned at him questioningly. "I've got to go. Have to go back to his Lordship," his face was set in a scowl and Hermione couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy from him. "I'll owl you or something if I hear anything."

"Well make sure you don't use real names or we might as well stroll right up to Voldemort and say 'hey, bright idea, kill us now!'"

"I got the impression you didn't approve of making jokes about the war, Granger." Hermione silently damned him to hell, knowing full well she hadn't even mentioned any concerns about making jokes. Not that she was a naturally funny person anyway. She was serious, because somebody needed to be serious. Once more, she cursed his perceptiveness inwardly, before summoning his wand.

"I guess you'll be needing this." She shivered slightly as his icy fingers brushed her own when he took the wand from her. She watched him intently as he put on his cloak and walked towards the door. "Good luck then," she said, allowing herself to smile grimly. He nodded briefly.

"And you." He swept out of the door (Hermione having removed the locking charms) and strode out of sight, round the corner. There was a loud _crack_ and she knew he was gone.

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	3. Chapter Two: Preparations

**A/N:** Thank you for the response, it's really given me loads of encouragement to keep writing. I'll be posting every Saturday, so you know, just check back then and there'll probably be an update, ok?

* * *

**By Any Other Name. **

**by Flaignhan.

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**

Chapter Two: Preparations.

Hermione had discovered the previous afternoon, that while she was technically on her summer holidays, there was still a long list of tasks that needed completing before she left home. One of those tasks being to tell her parents of her imminent departure, something she still hadn't gotten around to. Consequently, she didn't have time to look up untraceable spells until the morning after Malfoy's unexpected visit. And with Professor Flitwick set to arrive shortly before midday, there wasn't going to be much time at all to do her research.

Luckily, she had found what she was looking for moderately quickly, and placed the charm upon herself, feeling the light, dizzy sensation that had been described in her textbook. Satisfied that she was now untraceable, she scribbled down in her homework planner (which was supposed to be used for her seventh year, but circumstance had dictated otherwise) that she needed to cast the spell on her parents, as well as Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasleys, if they hadn't already done so themselves.

Professor Flitwick arrived a little after twelve, apologising for his lateness and telling her of the jammed up floo network. "Probably families visiting each other every five seconds to make sure all's well," he reasoned. "Still, can't be helped. How about we get working on those charms?" Hermione smiled at the passion he held for his subject, even in times of war.

"It's terrible really, that we even have to consider doing this." Professor Flitwick said a while later. Hermione nodded in agreement and Professor Flitwick continued talking. "What with Professor Dumbledore gone now, there doesn't seem to be much hope. Of course the _Daily Prophet_ is absolutely positive that Mr Potter will save everyone, but he's so young. He shouldn't even be carrying a burden like this…have you got a secret keeper in mind?" He changed the subject back to the protection charms that they were currently placing on the house.

"Me," Hermione said firmly.

"But you can't be the secret keeper if you live there-"

"I'm leaving this evening," she told him, her hands shaking at the thought that this might be the last day she'd spend at her parents' house. "I- I'm going with Harry. To fight Voldemort."

Professor Flitwick looked shocked at this, but his expression softened. "I don't know why I expected anything different. I knew Mr Potter would be going, and what with you and Mr Weasley being such loyal friends, it shouldn't come as a shock really… Well, I wish you all the luck in the world." Hermione smiled faintly.

"Thank you Professor."

Hermione sat down in front of her parents at the kitchen table, her hands wringing in her lap, her bag upstairs packed with necessities, but quite unknown to her parents. Her father was reading a large broadsheet newspaper, with the headline "Taxes set to rise". He shook his head, put down the newspaper, and allowed his attention to fall onto Hermione. Her mother looked up from her magazine and frowned at her daughter's nervousness. "What's wrong dear?" she asked pleasantly.

"I…" she couldn't get the words out. She knew what was coming. Questions, why wasn't she happy living at home, what was so bad that she had to leave, why was it so sudden? "I'm leaving home, tonight," she finally managed to say what she'd been worrying herself sick over all day, and she felt her heart deflate a little with relief that she'd managed to say it.

"What? Why?" her father asked, totally and utterly confused. "What's wrong Hermione?"

"Where are you planning to go? You haven't got a job, you won't be able to pay for a flat-"

"I'm going to Ron's for tonight. It's his brother's wedding in a couple of days, and then we're going with Harry to his aunt and uncle's, and to his parent's old house…"

"But why?" her mother cried, and Hermione couldn't bare to look at the hurt expression that was etched all over her face.

"We've got to…Voldemort, you don't know what's been going on…" Hermione explained weakly. She felt like a little girl who was being told off by her parents, and was trying to justify her wrongdoing.

"Voldemort…" her father started, "he's the chap who killed Harry's parents?" Hermione grimaced at her father's use of the word 'chap'. It made Voldemort sound like a pipe smoking, well-read old man who played golf on occasion.

"Yeah," Hermione answered, her voice trembling, "and loads of other people. You've got no idea how bad it is, and Harry, he's the only one who can stop it. And we _can't_ let him do it alone. We _can't_ just sit there and read in the newspapers everyday about whatever narrow escape he's had. We've got to be there for him, every step of the way…"

"But darling, what if you get-" she wasn't allowed to say the last word, because then it would become all too real.

"It's a risk I've got to take. It's not like I can just step out of the wizarding world and Voldemort won't affect me in any way. He'll kill everybody, wizard or not. He hates _people_."

"But-" her father began to protest but she stopped him.

"Professor Dumbledore died a few days before I came home. That's why I came home early. There was a battle at the school, and oh…why am I bothering? You can't understand because you weren't _there_. You haven't seen what Voldemort does. You don't understand what will happen if we don't make a stand, because someone's got to, and it always ends up being Harry, but he's not going to be alone. We're standing with him." She felt a tear escape from her eyelid and she wiped at it frustratedly. "It's not up for discussion," she said finally, her voice firm and commanding.

"Before I go though, I have to tell you, you're in danger as well. Do not trust anyone, and I mean _anyone_. It's too dangerous right now. I've put protective charms on the house, and no one will be able to find it unless I tell them where it is. That's me, and me alone. It's also unplottable, so it won't come up on maps, and anyone who tries to break in, or force entry, or whatever, is gong to get a nasty shock. Most people won't even notice the house. Also, if anyone _does_ manage to get in, I'll be alerted and I'll come straight away. You don't stand a chance without wands. It's all very complicated, but when it comes down to it, you must not trust anyone, even talk to anyone you haven't seen before, or tell anyone where you live. D'you understand?"

"Things are definitely wrong, when a daughter is protecting her parents," her father said, his face grey at the news he had just received.

"I won't be able to write," she told them apologetically, "it might get intercepted, but I'll drop in when I can, check everything's ok. Oh and, one last thing, don't mention me at all outside of the house. The less connected with me you are, the better."

"But surely people won't-"

"People in the wizarding world know me. I'm Harry Potter's best friend, and Harry's about the most famous person in the wizarding world." Hermione smiled sadly and got up from the table, summoning her bag, which was on the floor at her feet in no time. She waved her wand and muttered an incantation, firstly at her mother, and then at her father. "You're untraceable now, so nobody will be able to track you using magic." She pulled on her coat – despite it being June, the weather was absolutely atrocious – and slung her bag over her shoulder. She hugged her parents tightly, and tried not to cry as they said things like 'take care of yourself dear,' and 'come home soon'.

She looked at them tearfully one last time, before she disapparated with a _crack_, knowing it would be the last time she saw her parents for a very long time.

Crookshanks scowled at the spot where Hermione had just been, obviously displeased that his owner had abandoned him.

* * *

"Hermione dear, you look so thin, have you been eating properly?" Hermione's face broke into a smile and she forgot her worries in an instant.

"I've been eating fine, Mrs Weasley," she told the red haired witch, who looked more and more harassed every time Hermione saw her.

Ron and Harry chose that moment to come bolting down the stairs, each of them enveloping her in a massive hug that made her ribs feel like they were about to cave in. They walked into the lounge, where Hermione was surprised to see Fred and George sitting there, playing a game of exploding snap.

"Hermione!" they chorused, grinning madly when she entered.

"Hello boys…" she replied, smiling at them.

"Boys?" Fred asked.

"I think that's a little unjust-"

"Especially as we're nineteen,"

"And a bit,"

"That makes us adults,"

"Don't you agree?" Hermione rolled her eyes and sat down on the sofa, Harry and Ron plonking themselves down either side of her a few seconds later.

"How did your parents take the news?" Harry asked gently.

"They don't understand a thing that's going on…I mean how could they?" she sighed, the good mood she'd been in since she put her foot through the door of The Burrow diminishing quickly.

"Yeah, I know."

"When are we going to set off?" she asked, changing the topic of conversation, even though this subject was no more cheerful.

"Day after the wedding," Harry supplied. Hermione nodded. "We've got a tent that I've shrunk down that we can sleep in. It's alright actually, like the one we had at the World Cup." Hermione smiled, glad that there would be some form of accommodation on their adventure. She didn't much fancy staying out in unknown places all night with no protection. Nor did she fancy apparating back to The Burrow at all hours of the day and night, mostly because of the amount of energy it took, but partly because she knew she wouldn't be up to the inquisition that would always follow their arrival.

"Mum's been worrying over us ever since we got home. Keeps saying how it's not right that we should have to do it, cos we're only teenagers." Ron explained as he stared into the roaring fire. "But we don't have to, well, we sort of do, cos no one else is gonna put a stop to it, but you know what I mean, if Harry decided not to do it, no one'd force him."

"Like I'd ever decide to walk away…" Harry remarked, uncharacteristically bitter.

"Well that's not what I'm saying mate," Ron replied.

"I know, I'm just saying, I wouldn't." He leant back into the chair and sighed, his mouth forming words that neither Ron nor Hermione could hear, although by lip-reading, she could distinctly make out the word 'locket' and guessed he must have been chanting the horcruxes to himself again.

Mrs Weasley walked in and set a large plate of sandwiches on the table, which the twins automatically dived for, but calmed down after a reprimanding look from Mrs Weasley. They chatted about dull topics while they ate, such as how grim the weather had been lately, and how Fleur and Mrs Weasley were getting along brilliantly since their episode in the hospital wing.

Bill entered the room and, after grabbing half a ham sandwich, sat down heavily in an arm chair next to the fire. "Hello Hermione," he said cheerfully, although there was a slight bark to his voice that had not been there last summer.

"Wow, your scars are healing up brilliantly, Bill!" he grinned, and before anyone could stop her, Hermione was spouting off information about werewolf bites, cursed wounds, how rare it was for scars to even heal, let alone begin to fade. Bill didn't seem to mind though, he'd probably heard a lot of it anyway, but some bits seemed to interest him.

"If we find Greyback," Ron interrupted, his voice dark, "he's dead," he looked over at Bill.

"Don't put yourself in unnecessary danger, you're just kids…" he looked at them sadly.

"Yeah well we've done a lot more than most fully grown wizards haven't we?" Ron replied defensively.

"Yes but you shouldn't have had to. Anyway, I'm going to bed, busy few days coming up." He grinned wolfishly and left the room, his footsteps echoing up the stairs.

Hermione then began to tell Ron, Harry, Fred and George about the untraceable spells, and to her surprise, all four of them took a keen interest in them.

* * *

"I, Billius Arthur Weasley, take Fleur Marie Delacour, as my lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold," Ron nudged Hermione.

"We had to get dressed up for this?" he asked her, scowling at his dress robes that had taken him so much effort to put on over his normal, everyday clothes.

"Oh be quiet Ron, days like this don't happen very often. This'll probably be the last time everyone here'll be together for…"

"Forever," he finished for her.

"Don't talk like that," she whispered to him, glad that the crack in her voice wasn't too audible. "We'll all make it through, just…just you wait." There was a cheer as Fleur and Bill kissed, and then everyone began chatting happily.

She leant against the wall, drinking some delicious fruity drink that Mrs Weasley had made for the occasion, and gasped as someone took her hand, dragging her back into the house. It was a moment before she realised that it was in fact George, who was dragging her up the stairs. "I thought I'd better grab you now, later on people will realise if you go missing," he explained.

"Where are we going?"

"Mine and Fred's bedroom, I've got a few things for you for when you…leave." He had pondered over the last word, wondering how he should describe what his younger brother and two best friends were going to do.

"Like what?" Hermione asked interestedly.

"Stuff that'll come in handy that I know the other two won't look after."

She sat down on one of the many beds in the room (evidently people were staying over after the wedding) and watched George as he rummaged through a cardboard box that had been dumped unceremoniously in the corner of the room.

"Right," he started, his arms full of several objects. He sat down next to her and dropped the stuff onto the mattress beside him. "We've managed to make some two way mirrors, you know, like Sirius gave Harry. We thought if we kept one, then you'd be able to tell us if you're in trouble or something." Hermione nodded, and took one of the mirrors that he offered her. "Next, we've got your usual, instant darkness powder, shield cloaks, all that," he pushed it towards her and she smiled gratefully, "And lastly," he said, picking up three coloured cuboids with a dark button on top. All of them were attached to a long chain, and they were obviously meant to wear them around their necks. "These are apparition triggers. If you don't have the energy to apparate, you push the button, and next second, you're downstairs in the kitchen. I suggest you keep this one with you at all times…"

"That's a serious bit of magic there George, how on Earth did you manage it?" Hermione found she was absolutely intrigued by the apparition triggers. She'd never even heard anyone think it up. They could make hundreds of galleons out of something like that. When she voiced this opinion to George he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah but we can't do that yet, because we can't be sure who we're selling them to. If we do decide to release them, then it'll be after the war. I mean look what happened with Malfoy and the instant darkness powder…Bill keeps saying it wasn't our fault but if Ron and Ginny could have seen, they'd have been able to hex a good few of them then and there…"

"It doesn't matter now George, what's done is done. And honestly, if they could have seen, then the Death Eaters probably would have killed Ron and Ginny without a moment's thought. You don't know how things could have turned out." George nodded solemnly and looked over at Hermione.

"You're really brave you know, all three of you. I'm dead proud of the lot of you." Hermione smiled and found that her eyes had begun to burn with tears. Why did people always start telling you how much you mean to them when you're about to go off and probably not come back? "Promise me all three of you'll come back in one piece."

"I hope that doesn't happen, sharing a body with Harry and Ron, eugh…" she smiled, trying to steer the conversation away from the serious, depressing road it was about to go down.

"Well make sure that you're all ok yeah? And that you'll come back alive and happy."

"You know I can't promise anything like that…" she half-whispered sadly.

"Yeah, I know." He got up from the bed, kissed her on the forehead, and left the room. Hermione sighed, before picking up the things he'd given her, and taking them to Ginny's room so she could put them in her bag.

* * *

"Now make sure you eat well, and don't let yourselves get ill, and try to stay out of trouble-"

"Mum, they're going to hunt down Voldemort, that's just _looking_ for trouble!" Fred interrupted her, causing her to start sobbing quietly. Fred earned himself a glare from his father.

"We'll be fine Mrs Weasley," Harry told her, putting a comforting arm around her, "I promise. Dumbledore taught me everything he knew about Voldemort so we've got a good chance…"

"A better chance than anyone else has ever had," Charlie commented optimistically.

"Keep in touch ok?" Mr Weasley said, knowing full well that they wouldn't. "And don't do anything rash. And don't-"

"Dad, we'll be fine," Ron said.

"I guess we'll see you all soon," Harry said. After each of them received around a dozen hugs, they left The Burrow, and with a _crack_, they disappeared from sight.

The people inside The Burrow sat in silence, before they began to leave, one by one, to continue about their daily business.

* * *


	4. Chapter Three: The Beginning

**A/N:** I offer my sincerest apologies, as it is now the early hours of Friday morning. The last few days have been hectic, but to say there wasn't enough spare time for me to post this chapter would have been a lie. I know, not much happened last chapter, but it was a necessary chapter, and was also written when this was first coming to be, and although it's been refined, it wasn't as good as it could be. This chapter however, is a bit more eventful and I hope you will see fit to review. Oh, and, one more thing, Saturday will leave me with no spare time at all, so I shall most likely upload the next chapter on Sunday. Come to think of it, Sunday is a less busy day normally, so I think it may be wise to switch upload day to Sunday. Either way, I apologise for the delay, and I assure you that it will not happen again, without good reason.

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* * *

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**By Any Other Name.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Chapter Three: The Beginning.

They all waited nervously on the doorstep of number four, Privet Drive. A large shape was growing bigger and bigger as it moved towards the door, which opened, to reveal a rather large Dudley, with a doughnut clasped in one of his chubby hands. At the sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he dropped the doughnut and scarpered into the sitting room.

"Who was it Diddykins?" Aunt Petunia called from the kitchen.

"It's me," Harry called out unenthusiastically as he stepped inside, Ron and Hermione following on apprehensively.

"I thought you didn't finish school until the end of this month?" Petunia asked, her kind tone vanishing as soon as she laid her eyes on Harry.

"School's closed. Headmaster was murdered." Harry told her bluntly, almost hoping that it would have more of an impact if he said it more aggressively than he would have done if he'd been telling Lupin, or someone else he actually liked. Hermione put an arm on Harry's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. She knew Harry had been hit harder than anyone by Dumbledore's death, not only because he was there and powerless to do anything, but also because Dumbledore had been Harry's mentor, the one who could always fix things, who always had an answer, who could always make things right.

"That man who was here last summer?" Petunia asked, her eyes widening slightly. Harry nodded, before fixing her with a cold stare. Hermione felt incredibly uncomfortable during this short exchange of words, and dreaded to think what the house would be like when Harry was home for the whole summer. Even worse, she thought, what about when he'd gone through that immature patch. The one which involved screaming and shouting and sulking. That couldn't have been pleasant for either party. Although she wasn't going to mention that to Harry, for fear of the frustrated fifteen year old making a reappearance.

"This is Ron and Hermione by the way," he said, introducing his best friends to his aunt properly.

"Hello," she greeted them coolly.

"We're only going to be here for another few minutes; Dumbledore said I had to come back once more before my birthday." Aunt Petunia nodded and walked into the kitchen, leaving Harry standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall, with Ron and Hermione standing awkwardly behind him.

They left Privet Drive a short while later, intending to go to their next planned destination – Godric's Hollow. The (admittedly quite major) flaw in their plan was the fact that they had no idea where in the world Godric's Hollow was.

"We should have checked a map," Hermione said frustratedly.

"Lupin'll know, we'll just ask him. He's probably at Grimmauld Place now anyway." Hermione nodded, and they apparated to the dim, grimy street, all very pleased that travelling took so little effort now that they could apparate.

Harry knocked on the door and it was soon opened by Remus Lupin, who was looking in a worse condition every time they saw him. He smiled at the sight of the three of them, his grey eyes twinkling. "I didn't expect to see you so soon," he said cheerfully as he stood aside to let them pass. They made their way into the kitchen and sat down at the table, their bags having been dumped in the corner of the room by the oven.

"We were about to go to Godric's Hollow," Harry began.

"Ah, say no more," Lupin said, cutting Harry off, "You don't know where it is do you?" He chuckled slightly as the teenagers shook their heads, and he muttered something about preparation. "It's in Hertfordshire; it's a nice little street. After…the attack, I repaired it, mostly cosmetic damage so it wasn't too difficult, and no one's lived there since." Harry nodded and Hermione gave Ron a look. They got up and left the kitchen, leaving Harry and Lupin to talk in peace.

"Do you know what happened to my grandparents?" They didn't hear Lupin's reply when they reached the top of the stairs. They wandered into the drawing room and Ron sat himself down on one of the sofas while Hermione looked around the room. She paused at the tapestry which depicted the Black family tree, scowling at the scorch mark that was where Sirius' name should have been. She thought it was vastly unfair that he was probably one of the most decent people to come out of the family and he'd been disowned. Although the Blacks' definition of decent was very different to her own, surely they would have brought him back into the family after they'd heard he'd killed thirteen people with one curse? She scowled once more at the scorch mark before looking at the rest of the tree. Next to the scorch mark, embroidered in dark neat letters was his brother, Regulus Black. "Regulus Black…" Hermione whispered, "R.B.…" Without paying any attention to Ron's confused look, she sprinted out of the room and jumped down the stone stairs that led to the kitchen two at a time.

"James was so upset when he found out, especially when he realised that it was Voldemort himself who'd-"

"Remus," she said, her breathing shallow. They both looked at her with concern, "What was Regulus' middle name?"

"Aries, I think. I know it began with an A…why?"

"Harry, R.A.B.!" Harry's eyes widened with realisation. "It's got to be here somewhere!"

"There was a locket when we were cleaning the house out a couple of years ago, no one could open it. D'you remember?" Hermione nodded, biting her lip, knowing that the chances were that they'd thrown it away.

"What are you two talking about?"

"No time to explain," Harry said quickly as he stood up, "help us look for a gold locket, it's got an S carved on it, ok?" Lupin nodded, looking more than a little confused, but followed orders anyway.

They spent the rest of the day searching the house high and low for any sign of the locket. They tried summoning it but to no effect. Ron had been ready to give up at this point, but Hermione told them she was sure Voldemort would have put an anti summoning charm on it, judging by what happened when Harry tried to summon the fake locket in the cave.

"This is hopeless," Hermione complained in frustration four hours later. "We're never going to find it at this rate!"

"We will," Harry said firmly, "We've got to or we might as well give up on everything." Hermione sighed and got up from the sofa which she had sat down on only thirty seconds previously. She left the attic where they'd been looking and decided to go and get a drink.

She paused as she passed a familiar door. It was the door that had opened onto Kreacher's den, and, hoping against hope that someone with power over everything was on her side, she opened the door, her hand instantly moving to cover her nose and mouth due to the awful smell (a mixture of mould, sweat, and general nastiness). Her eyes widened as she noticed a glimmer of gold underneath the cracked photo frame which hosted a picture of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange. She moved the photo out the way, being careful not to cut herself on the broken glass and gasped when she saw an ornate golden locket with a snake carved in the shape of an S on it. She picked it up by the fine gold chain that it hung from, and shut the door of the little cupboard.

"Harry!" she yelled. There was a thunder of footsteps and Harry, Ron and Lupin appeared next to her in a matter of seconds.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked as soon as he saw her. She held up the locket, letting it dangle in front of them and Harry's eyes widened.

"That's the one I saw in the memory. It belonged to Hepzibah Smith, that's the horcrux…" Harry reached out a hand and Hermione gave it to him.

"Horcrux? Voldemort's got a horcrux?"

"Six," Harry informed him, which caused Lupin to gasp. "Two have been destroyed, this is the third one, Hufflepuff's cup is about somewhere, his snake is another one, and there's something he used that belonged to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw."

"So his soul's in seven pieces…" This information seemed to have shocked Lupin to his very core, and now he seemed to realise how difficult it would be to kill Voldemort.

"Most powerful magical number according to him. Haven't got a clue how to destroy it, I mean, look what happened to Dumbledore's hand…" Harry said, frowning as he put the locket in the pocket of his jeans.

"We can worry about that later Harry. All that matters is that we've got it," Hermione told him.

"Yeah, I s'pose," Harry replied. "Anyway, we have to go, thanks for everything." Lupin smiled warmly at them, and they made their way back to the kitchen, slipping on their coats and hoisting their bags on to their backs.

"Don't be strangers will you?" he asked, looking at them all fondly, "and you know where you're going for Godric's Hollow?" Harry nodded sharply and they said goodbye to Lupin, before climbing the stairs, leaving the house, and each of them disappearing with a loud _crack_.

* * *

They appeared in a small village, which looked like it had been taken straight out of a painting. There were little cottages with thatched roofs scattered around, the little windows with swirled glass panes were misted slightly with fog, and there was smoke emitting from a few chimneys of the houses. "Lupin said it's at the north end of the village," Harry told Hermione and Ron. They both nodded and watched as he used the 'point me' spell to direct them towards the house. 

When they had been walking for a good ten minutes, Hermione stopped and looked at a little wooden sign that had been hammered into the ground many years ago. The name 'Godric's Hollow' was carved into it and was partly obscured by long nettles that hadn't been cut away in some time. Harry looked at the sign and Hermione knew he was preparing himself for going into the house where he spent the first year of his life.

It was slightly bigger than the other houses in the village, though the grass had grown to waist height and there were a few smashed panes of glass. Hermione immediately repaired them with a quick wave of her wand, and the three of them made their way to the front door, which had dull white paint peeling off of it. Harry pressed his hand against it, running his fingers over the cracks in the paint, and to everyone's surprise, the door gave a quiet _click_ and swung open easily. Harry looked at the other two and they shrugged, following him as he stepped inside, making sure to wipe their feet on the door mat.

It was strange; walking around a house that no one had been in for over fifteen years. There were numerous photos of James, Lily, Sirius, Lupin, Pettigrew and a baby Harry. Hermione chewed nervously on her lip, knowing how hard it must be for Harry to see the home he could have had, to see how things were moments before his parents' deaths. They wandered into the lounge, which to Hermione's surprise, had a television sitting in the corner of it. Ron sat down on the sofa, big clouds of dust puffing out of the cushion when he made contact. Harry was skulking around the room, gazing longingly at photos, before he opened a door at the back of the room. Hermione rushed over as soon as she heard him breathe in sharply, knowing that something was wrong.

The room contained a large bed, and there was a small crib near the window, with Harry's name carved into the wood. Hermione felt a tear escape the confines of her eyelids and pulled Harry into a hug. "I can see it happening, he's yelling for her to run," his voice was muffled against Hermione's shoulder and he was trembling violently. Soon she could feel Harry's tears soaking through her shirt, and she held him tighter. Ron had come over to them now and had put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder, his face pale. He looked scared to see Harry like this. Neither of them had ever seen Harry break down before, he always bottled things up so much. But, Hermione reasoned, it wasn't easy to bottle something as big as this up. Reliving your parents deaths and looking around their house, just as it was before it had happened…that couldn't be repressed, and even if it could, it would resurface so often that there would be no point in trying to push it away.

Harry pulled away from Hermione's tight hug, wiping hurriedly at his eyes, which were red and puffy. "Sorry," he muttered, "I just didn't expect-"

"Don't apologise," Hermione said quickly. "I would have been worried if it hadn't affected you." Harry nodded sharply and went into the bedroom, lying down on the bed, pulling one of the pillows close to his chest. Hermione shut the door and sat on the sofa with Ron, who put an arm around her when he saw another few tears begin to trickle down her face.

She took the opportunity to admire the room she was in. It was nicely decorated, and seemed to be covered in a lot less dust than she'd expected it to be. She supposed that Lily had used some sort of cleaning charm that hadn't worn off, but was beginning to weaken. Harry always said she'd been good at charms. Her eyes lingered on a shield above the fireplace, which was made of gleaming silver and encrusted with rubies, and then her eyes dropped to a photo on the mantle, Lily and James holding baby Harry, Sirius crouching behind the sofa, arms around his friends. It was strange to think that there was only one person left alive in that picture, and her train of thought made her throat tighten uncomfortably.

"Tough this, isn't it?" Ron murmured, breaking the silence after a while.

"Yeah, but I bet it's a hundred times worse for Harry."

"Yeah, I bet," Ron agreed. Hermione got up and wandered into the bedroom, sitting down on the edge of the bed, the white sheets still as clean as though they had just been washed.

"It still smells of people," Harry whispered. "I can't remember what they smell like, but this one smells of nice shampoo," he handed one pillow to Hermione, "and this one smells of aftershave," he handed the other pillow to her. "D'you think that's what they smelt like?"

"Yeah, I bet it is Harry," Hermione told him as she handed back the pillows after inhaling the pleasant scents.

"I could have lived here," Harry said glumly. "I could have lived in this house."

"I know Harry; maybe once everything's over you could live here? If you wanted to. But it might hurt too much."

"No, I think I'd like it here. I just need to get over the shock that this was how it was, right before he walked in and…" he let out a deep sigh and sank back onto the plump mattress. "It'd be nice, to go through things and see all the memories. I don't have many and you know, there's bound to be loads of photographs and that."

"Yeah, once it's all finished maybe it'll help you get some closure." Harry smiled gratefully at her, showing his appreciation for her for just listening to him.

"Don't suppose there's any food around here is there? I'm starved!" Harry and Hermione laughed as Ron's gangly figure appeared in the doorway, hand on his grumbling stomach.

"I doubt it mate," Harry answered, "Or if there is I bet it's turned to complete mould." He got off the bed and wandered into another room that led off from the lounge, which turned out to be the kitchen.

It was of an average size, the walls were painted a pale lemon colour, and the white marble counters were all neat and tidy. Hermione walked over to the fridge and took down a note, which had been stuck to it with a magnet from London. She smiled as she read it. It was just a shopping list, but even so, it just added to the general feeling that the house had been lived in. Harry looked over her shoulder at the note and she was relieved to see him smile, albeit sadly.

Hermione soon found herself poring over the books that were stacked neatly on a wooden bookshelf in the living room, trying out handy spells she came across every so often. Ron was intrigued by the television and so Harry switched it on for him, surprised that it was still working. He was less surprised when Hermione added that it probably ran on magic, rather than electricity.

"So it's like photos with voices?" Ron asked, frowning at the newsreader on BBC1, who was informing the nation about an attack that had happened on a family during the night.

"Nobody knows how the Granger family were killed," Hermione looked up sharply at this, but was relieved to see that the family photo in the corner of the screen contained no one she knew, "and there is no official cause of death as of yet. Police are investigating the matter further, and are also puzzled by the appearance of a green image above the house after the attack, which was described as a skull with a snake coming out of its mouth. More information on this story when it comes."

Hermione sat down on the arm of the sofa, her eyes wide, staring at the screen, which had just flickered to complete black, as Harry had pointed the remote at it and turned it off. "Hermione," he began, but didn't know what to say.

"They're after you?" Ron asked, "And your family?"

"They must be," Hermione managed to croak. She was not thinking about the murdered family however, she was thinking about Malfoy, and how he'd been right. It was him who had led them to that family, made them believe that Hermione was a part of the family, but how could he lead a whole family into that? How could he just watch it all unfold? It was like watching lambs strolling straight into the slaughter house, unaware that they were about to be killed in the most brutal way. "They must be trying to get to us so Harry goes in and does something stupid…"

"Hermione, I'm not-"

"Harry, don't argue with me," Hermione countered him quickly, "We all know you'll go in firing off curses here and there with no plan of action, probably without having destroyed all the horcruxes, because you want revenge as quickly as you can get it. I _know_ what you're like Harry. Promise me even if- even if they kill me and Ron, you won't do that. Promise me, please," Hermione was gazing at him pleadingly and Harry sighed, nodding his head.

* * *

Hermione stopped brushing her teeth and looked up as an owl fluttered in through the bathroom window. They were staying at Godric's Hollow for the night, before they set off in the morning to god knew where. She untied the scrap of parchment from the owl's leg and unfolded it carefully. She frowned at the thin neat handwriting, not recognising it from anywhere and read the note. 

_G-_

_I suppose you believe me now. It was them or you, and personally, I don't think they'll help win any wars. _

_The Patils, tomorrow at midnight._

_See you there._

_-M_

Hermione had to read through the letter a number of times before she understood it fully. It was from Malfoy, that much was obvious. The main problem was how she would let Harry and Ron know that there was an attack planned on the Patils without telling them how she got her information. The owl gave an impatient hoot accompanied by an irritated glare directed towards Hermione. "I haven't got a reply," she told it quietly, "You'll just have to go back empty handed." The owl rolled its eyes and swept off through the open window, its dark feathery form soon becoming invisible against the twilit night sky.

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	5. Chapter Four: Progress

**A/N:** And here we are again, chapter four, thank you to those who have reviewed, and special thanks go to Isadora120 for being absolutely wonderful and reviewing each chapter so far. Some of you might want to take a leaf out of her book, hint hint. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and I think I shall definitely be doing a weekly post now, because I hae no social plans that dictate otherwise. Read on, my friends.

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**By Any Other Name.**

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**by Flaignhan.**

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Chapter Four: Progress.

"I'll go to Diagon Alley this morning, I can pick up a few books and see if they have anything about what curses could be protecting that locket." Hermione smiled cheerfully at Harry and Ron as she pulled her coat on.

"You'll be better off in Knockturn Alley," Harry commented, frowning a little.

"D'you think so?" Hermione had hoped one of them would have said this. She was more likely to have heard about the upcoming attack on the Patils if she were in a street that had shops selling nothing but things to do with dark magic.

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "D'you want one of us to come with you?" Hermione shook her head as though Ron were suggesting that they all go to the zoo and see if Voldemort was hiding out in the monkeys' cage.

"I'll be fine Ron; it's just a bit of shopping." Hermione disappeared with a loud _crack_ and suddenly found herself in Knockturn Alley.

She began to walk along the grimy street; avoiding the rats scurrying all over the moss-covered cobbled stones, but keeping an eye out for those who had the odd finger missing. As she ventured further into the street looking for a bookshop, she wished she had asked Harry or Ron to come with her. She knew she was vulnerable here, she was known to be one of Harry's best friends, and she was known to be muggle born. She cursed herself silently for making such a stupid mistake.

She didn't have much time to think about this mistake however, as a gloved hand clapped over her mouth, and someone pulled her roughly into a side street.

* * *

"What are you doing here Granger?" a voice hissed, "Are you completely thick?" Hermione twisted out of her captor's grip and turned around; recognising the pale sharp features that belonged to Draco Malfoy almost instantly. 

"Well how else was I supposed to 'find out' about the attack tonight? I'm _actually_ doing some research Malfoy, not that it's any of your business. I've come to pick up a few books on dark curses."

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"So we know what we're up against!" Hermione lied quickly. Malfoy looked at her searchingly and she looked straight back at him, concentrating all her effort on keeping eye contact.

"_I'll_ go and get you some books Granger, you wait in Diagon Alley."

"But-"

"No buts," he said firmly. "Why don't you tell me what you really want your books to be about?" Hermione sighed, inwardly cursing his perception once more.

"Protection spells, dark ones. The sort of curses that could stop you from destroying an object, or at least really hurt you when you do." Malfoy smirked.

"Granger's got it all sussed."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked sharply.

"I know what you know, even though I didn't tell you what I know when you tried to find out what I know." Hermione frowned at him. "Horcruxes," he whispered. Her eyes widened and his smirk grew in size, though she thought it impossible. "I'll meet you in Flourish and Blotts," he said quietly, before disappearing in a sweep of his cloak.

* * *

She had been wandering round the aisles of books for over an hour, and had even picked out a few books containing useful spells and potions. One book had a potion which lessened the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse, which, Hermione had decided with a slight shudder, would come in very useful. 

She heard a rustle and looked sharply to her left, to see Malfoy standing at the far end of the aisle, apparently searching for a book on unicorn anatomy. He set a paper bag down on the floor and walked away. Hermione soon heard the bell that hung over the door of the shop give a little ring, and she hurried quickly to the end of the aisle, picked up the bag, before going to pay for her books.

After a visit to the apothecary, she arrived back at Godric's Hollow and promptly dropped her bags on the floor, before she rushed to tell Harry and Ron about what she had 'overheard'.

"The Patils?" Harry asked.

"Yes!" Hermione confirmed. "They're going to attack their house tonight!"

"You're sure?" Ron asked.

"Yes! For heaven's sake, we can't just not go and stop them because 'we're not sure'. How would you feel tomorrow if you found out they'd been killed by Death Eaters?"

"Alright, at eleven o'clock, we go to their house and hide out in the garden. If we see movement, we send stunners. Understood?" Hermione and Ron nodded in understanding and Harry sank onto the sofa. "So I guess this is the beginning really."

"Yeah, I suppose it is," Hermione replied, sitting down next to him after she'd shrugged her coat off.

After a cup of tea and a short perusal of some of the books Draco had picked up for her, she began to brew a batch of the potion she had read about earlier, double checking every instruction, due to the fact (which the book emphasised wholeheartedly) that if the mixture was not balanced, it may render the taker unconscious for days, and in some rare cases, the drinker had never woken up at all.

It was times like these that Hermione felt especially grateful for her academic talents.

* * *

That night they were hiding in the bushes that surrounded the Patils' house, and at around half past eleven, they saw Padma switch off the last light that was on in the house. 

Hermione looked up as she heard some whispering and checked her watch. It was ten to twelve by now, and she supposed that the Death Eaters had arrived early. "We go in, we kill them, we send up the Dark Mark, we leave. It's got to be quick and clean." Hermione recognised the voice from the battle at Hogwarts a few weeks ago.

"Oh come on," Hermione recognised the voice as Malfoy's and felt Harry stiffen next to her. "Let's do a bit of torturing. Make them wait for death." Hermione knew she was the only one who understood what this meant. He wanted to make sure they'd left enough time so that the three of them could step in and stop them. They had arrived early and he wasn't sure if they were there yet. Harry whispered something that she was sure would have made Mrs Weasley faint, had she heard him.

"Very well Draco, you can torture the girls, I believe they were in your year at school?"

"Yes, they were." Draco replied, his tone not revealing any emotion whatsoever.

"Right, in we go, there are lives to be ended." They watched as the Death Eaters crept up to the front door, one of them muttering a few charms to unlock it.

"Go!" Harry whispered, "Quickly!" They crept out of the bushes and began stunning as many Death Eaters as they could, a few falling at the back without the others noticing. They had moved into the house by the time they realised that they were under attack. "Ron, upstairs quickly, wake them up, get them all in one room, lock it with that charm Hermione showed us." Ron nodded and disappeared, while Harry and Hermione fought the Death Eaters. They had dispersed into different rooms, and Hermione soon found herself cornered in the dining room, trying to fight off three of them at the same time. She managed to stun two of them but the last one had kicked her feet out from under her, her wand flying to the other side of the room. The Death Eater grinned.

"Avada-" he was hit by a jet of green light and collapsed, barely an inch away from Hermione. His skin was tinged green and his eyes were wide and staring, completely void of any sort of life.

Hermione scrambled to her feet, dashing quickly over to her wand, turning round quickly when the door clicked shut. Much to her relief, it was Malfoy. "You ok?" he asked quickly. Hermione nodded. "There's only a few out there, Weasley and Potter are coping with them." He walked up to Hermione, reached behind her and ripped something off the back of her jacket. "It draws in the spells. Even if their aim is way off you'll still get hit," he dropped it to the floor and stamped on it, shattering it into dozens of tiny pieces. "See you around," he said, before he disapparated, leaving Hermione in a completely empty room.

"Hermione where are you?" she heard Harry yell from outside, and immediately rushed out to him. He was fighting three Death Eaters at once, and Hermione instantly stunned one, and another turned to fight her. Soon enough all the Death Eaters were lying in crumpled heaps on the floor, the Patils' house looking much worse for wear than it had when they had first entered it. Glass was scattered over the carpet, chairs were broken, doors were hanging off their hinges and the wall of the living room had a hole blasted into it large enough for Hermione to crawl through.

"Where's Ron?" she asked breathlessly.

"He got knocked out," Harry told her, leading her through the bodies to where their friend was lying. "Enervate," Harry said quietly. Ron opened his eyes and sat up, blinking a number of times before he realised where he was. He raised a hand to his head and winced slightly, drawing it away again, his fingers having become stained with blood. Evidently he had landed on some glass from one of the cabinets.

"Are you ok?" Hermione asked him. Ron nodded and Hermione decided that it was a sufficient answer. "I'll go and check on the Patils," she said, careful not to trip on any sprawled out Death Eaters as she made her way to the stairs.

"What happened to Malfoy?" Harry called.

"He disapparated before I could hex him," Hermione lied.

"Coward," he spat. Hermione couldn't help but disagree with Harry, although she knew a lot more about Malfoy than he did.

Hermione muttered the counter-charm and the door that Ron had placed the spell on swung open easily, to reveal the Patil twins and their parents, huddled together on a large bed, all wearing their pyjamas and looking absolutely fear stricken. "It's alright," Hermione said kindly, "They're all stunned. One of them's dead though. I think Harry's going to contact the aurors in a minute."

"You saved us," Parvati whispered. "You saved our entire family," Hermione glanced down at the floor.

"Yeah well it wasn't just me. Harry and Ron did too."

"Yeah but you all risked your lives for us," Padma said, clearly not understanding why anyone would do such a thing.

"Well we weren't going to stand by and read about it in the newspapers…" Hermione replied.

"How did you find out?" their mother asked.

"I just overheard about it when I was in Knockturn Alley," Hermione answered, providing the same lie that she had told Harry and Ron.

The two boys appeared in the room a few seconds later, Ron with a hand on his sore head. "All the Death Eaters are stunned and tied up downstairs. They've got an anti disapparation jinx on them and we've got their wands. One of them's dead, and I think the Ministry are going to clear that up," Ron looked sharply at Harry.

"You killed one?"

"No, Hermione did," Harry answered.

"No I didn't!" Hermione argued. "One of the Death Eaters got knocked and he fired it in the wrong direction. I didn't even have my wand when he died…" Harry frowned, before continuing to update the Patils on what had happened.

"The ministry will be here in a few minutes, and I'd rather not be here for that, so we'll be off. But once it's all cleared up, make sure you get protection wards put up around your house. Owl me if you get any problems ok? So, bye, I guess." Mr Patil stood up and moved over to them.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, shaking their hands. "Thank you so much for saving us."

"Don't worry about it," Harry replied modestly. "Just doing my job really."

"It's not your job though," Parvati said. "You're not an auror."

"Yeah well, with Dumbledore gone, someone's got to try and sort this mess out…" Hermione smiled, and they walked out of the room, down the stairs and out of the house.

"Shall we just put that tent up tonight? I'm not sure I've got enough energy to apparate," Ron said. Hermione and Harry agreed, and they walked along the road to a patch of woodland where they would be suitably well hidden.

After they'd set up the tent, put appropriate protection spells on it, and got inside, they were all ready to go straight to sleep. Hermione got into her camp bed first, and she saw Ron do the same. Harry was last one up, and he switched off the lamps before climbing into his own camp bed.

Sleep came fairly easily for them all that night, although none of them slept entirely peacefully, and knew they wouldn't do for quite a while.

* * *

"Where are we going today then?" Ron asked as he pulled on his shoes, lacing them up sloppily. 

"I was thinking we should go to Voldemort's old orphanage, if it's still around. Cos he might have left some stuff there, you never know," Harry shrugged and waited for some feedback from his two best friends.

"Yeah, that's a really good idea actually, Harry. And what about the house where his father lived? He might have hidden one there if no one's lived there for ages." Hermione seemed excited at the prospect of making some sort of progress with the horcrux search, but Harry wasn't as optimistic.

"Yeah, it's worth a try. His orphanage must be fairly near Vauxhall Road I reckon, if that's where he got his diary from."

"Yeah, didn't you see it in Dumbledore's memory? Would you know it if you walked past it?" Harry gave her a non-committal shrug of the shoulders and she sighed exasperatedly. "Stop being such a teenager! Give me a straight answer."

"Yeah, probably, but it's bound to have changed isn't it?"

"Not necessarily, it might have been a listed building, or it might still be an orphanage or it might have been kept as it was because the owner liked it," she reasoned, although the chances of any of those thoughts being true were slim. She wouldn't mention that though, otherwise she knew Harry would lose heart quite quickly.

"I suppose. Come on, let's get packed up and go and find it," Harry said, there was a small protest from Ron, "We can find a cafe and have breakfast in London, alright?" This seemed to spur Ron on, as he immediately began to hurry Hermione and Harry along, more or less pushing them out of the tent so they could take it down.

* * *

Nothing, Hermione decided, could match Mrs Weasley's cooking. The breakfast they had been served was very nice, but it still wasn't as good as Mrs Weasley's. But, Hermione reasoned, once you'd had the best you were just going to be disappointed with anything else. She smiled and took a bite from her slightly overdone toast and chewed it, thinking about how they should try and find the orphanage. Her first, and admittedly rather simplistic idea was to just ask people. When she voiced this opinion to Harry and Ron however, she was laughed at. "Yeah, alright Hermione," Ron said, "'Excuse me, I don't suppose you know of any orphanages that were around fifty years ago? One of them was home to a mass murderer.'" Harry sniggered at this and Hermione's expression became sour. She cut into her bacon with a little more gusto than was necessary. 

"Ok, if you two are so smart, how do you suggest we look for it?" Hermione asked once they were outside the café. Harry nodded across the street at something Hermione couldn't quite see, due to a large grimy truck going past it. When it had moved however, she saw he had been nodding towards an internet café. "Internet?"

"No better research tool, and it _was_ a muggle orphanage." Hermione sighed and followed the boys across the big city street, finding herself pleasantly surprised at how well Ron was coping with so much muggle interaction.

"So what d'you call this thing then?" Ron asked as they sat down at a computer. The girl working in the shop gave them a strange look and Hermione quickly thought of a less than top-notch excuse to explain away Ron's bizarre ignorance of muggle technology.

"He's been living out of civilisation for a few years. He's never seen one before," she said quickly, and although the girl still seemed a bit confused, it seemed to answer any questions that she had buzzing around her small brain. Hermione opened an internet window and began searching for orphanages in London that dated back to at least fifty years before, ignoring Ron's constant questions about how it worked, and how it knew so much. She shot him a steely glare when he commented on how it probably knew more than Hermione.

"Well I've narrowed it down to three of them," Hermione said as she waited for a page to print. "They're all still orphanages, so with any luck they'll have records of Voldemort living there, and maybe even have some of his belongings." She placed the page on the desk, allowing Harry and Ron to see that it was a map of the area they were in. She pointed to one of the three red circles, each on indicating a different orphanage. "This one is the furthest away from Vauxhall Road, so I think that would be our last choice," Hermione told them, "there's other streets where he could have bought the diary closer to home. This one," she said, pointing to another red circle, "has been around for about seventy years, which I think would fit, it's also fairly close to Vauxhall Road, so he could have got the diary there. And this one," she said finally, pointing to a red circle that was in Vauxhall Road, "it's a bit vague about the dates, so I'm not entirely sure about it. It said it was owned and run by a Miss Stephens, if that's any help?"

"No, the woman's name was…" Harry closed his eyes, fingers clicking absentmindedly as he tried to grasp the memory and find out her name. "Mrs…Cole, I think. Yes, I remember the girl shouting," Hermione nodded.

"If I research the second one a bit more then…maybe I can find out if she was running it when Voldemort was living in an orphanage." Hermione searched for another twenty minutes but could find nothing about who had run the orphanage for over the last fifty years. The only information that she came up with was the present owner, a Miss Gook, who had been working there for several years.

"Let's just go there anyway, it's not too far away, we can walk it." Hermione and Ron got up and followed Harry out the shop, stopping to find the right direction to begin walking from the map.

They arrived at an old, but refurbished house which had high metal railings around it, reminding Hermione of school gates. They went inside and knocked on the door, which opened after a few seconds to reveal a bedraggled girl in her late teens, who had apparently been trying to get one of the younger children to have a bath. "Miss Gook? Is she expecting you?" she asked upon their request to see the manager.

"No," Hermione replied, her tone pleasant, "But we're doing a bit of research and wondered if she'd be able to spare us a few moments," the girl nodded and stepped aside to let them in. The hall was covered in large black and white tiles, which were all polished to perfection. The wooden banister that led upstairs was carved in an ornate fashion, and the walls had been covered with a fresh coat of paint fairly recently.

"I'm pretty sure this is it," Harry murmured to Hermione as they were led to the office. "It's changed, but the tiles are the same, I remember the tiles. " Hermione nodded, before turning to him.

"Let me do the talking ok?" Harry nodded and they waited while the girl informed Miss Gook that she had visitors.

"She says she's only got half an hour, so if you need any more time you'll have to come back, but she's happy to see you now."

"Thank you," said Hermione, stepping into the office, Harry and Ron following on behind. "Hello," she said brightly to Miss Gook, a slim woman who had her mousy hair pulled back into a messy bun, and was wearing a dark blue shirt with grey trousers. Hermione got the distinct impression that she knew what she was doing, and she was doing it for the right reasons. They shook hands with her and sat down in the chairs in front of the plain wooden desk, which was scattered with folders, sheets of paper, pens and a few half empty cups of coffee.

"So how can I help you? Janine said you're doing some research, family tree is it?"

"Yes," Hermione said, her smile not faltering, even though inside she was squirming at the mere thought of being related to Voldemort. "We're trying to find out a little more about my grandfather, his name was Tom Riddle?"

"The name doesn't ring a bell, but I can look through the files for you," she scooted over on her desk chair to a large filing cabinet, and pulled open the bottom draw, searching through numerous files, before extracting one, wiping the thick coat of dust from it, and scooting back over to the desk. "Yes," she said as she browsed through the file, "nasty piece of work it seems, bit of a bully. He went to boarding school from the age of eleven, don't know what qualifications he got, we never heard about them, and then after he turned seventeen we didn't see him again. Well, I say we, I mean Mrs Cole." Hermione nodded and Miss Gook took this as a signal to continue reading. "His mother showed up on New Years Eve, a few years before the war started, had him in one of the bedrooms, and she lived just long enough to name him. Tom, after his father, Marvolo after her father." Hermione tried to act like this was all new information to her. "We've got no idea about her name, I don't suppose they thought to ask at the time, just says she was a sickly looking girl, dressed in rags, I think you can imagine."

"Yes, it's sad really," Hermione replied. Harry's indignant tut went unnoticed by Miss Gook. "I don't suppose you'd have any of his belongings would you? It'd be fantastic to get a few of his childhood possessions. Something to keep in the family, you know?"

"Well I don't know if he left anything, but if he did it'd be in the attic. We keep personal possessions for family members who might come back in the future. Don't really like to throw things away, especially back then, it was all so much more personal. Today it's all gameboy this, playstation that, not what it used to be."

"No, I quite agree," Hermione answered sweetly, but not fakely.

Miss Gook left them in her office and they heard her climbing the stairs on her way to the attic. "Well, she seems nice," Hermione said brightly. The boys shrugged noncommittally and Hermione tutted.

"Not very tactful though is she?" Harry began a few moments later, "I mean, she didn't even know him and she's telling his 'granddaughter' how horrible he was. Surely no one wants to hear that about their family?"

"Well you would have accused her of lying if she'd said any different, so I don't know what you expect," Hermione replied. "Besides, she can't lie when it's written on the records. And Voldemort _was_ a nasty piece of work, so I don't know why you're complaining."

"I'm not complaining, I'm just…saying," Harry finished rather lamely.

Suddenly, a loud piercing scream came from upstairs, and Harry, Hermione and Ron got out of their seats, quick as a flash, before sprinting out the office and up the stairs. They arrived in the attic in a matter of seconds, to see Miss Gook sprawled over the dusty floorboards, a large black spirit hovering over her still body. It turned to face Harry and flickered, changing its shape to that of a Dementor's. "Riddikulus!" Harry yelled, pointing his wand at the Dementor. The Dementor flickered once more, and was suddenly bright pink with blonde pigtails and a frilly skirt. Harry let out a laugh and the Dementor vanished in a puff of smoke.

"How can there be a boggart in a muggle orphanage?" Ron asked, confusedly.

"It's probably magical residue, it's been locked up in here for a long time with Voldemort's belongings, and I guess the boggart must have thought it an ideal place." She was kneeling down next to Miss Gook now, who was wide eyed and staring. "She's dead," Hermione whispered. "She must have died of fright…"

Janine appeared in the attic, a crying child resting on her hip. "What did you do to her?" she asked accusingly, rushing forward. She was held back by Harry, while Hermione stood up and sighed.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "she must have had a heart attack. We couldn't have done anything."

"No... she didn't... she's too young to die..." Janine replied in a trembling whisper. "She's only forty two…"

"People can die at any age," Harry told her, not unkindly.

"Would you like me to call the hospital?" Hermione offered.

"No," Janine told her, "I'll do it, if you've got what you came for then you can go," she avoided their eyes, and Hermione could tell she was frightened.

"If you want us to stay and help, I mean, even if we keep an eye on the children for you-"

"No it's fine," Janine replied sharply, looking up at Hermione with tearful eyes. "I'll call Mrs Stoke. She can come in and help," Hermione was about to protest but Janine cut her off, "No really, it's fine. You can take whatever it was she came to get for you, and you can go." Ron picked up the cardboard box that had 'T. Riddle' written on it in faded ink and Harry and Hermione followed him towards the stairs leading back into the main part of the house.

"Are you _sure_ you'll be ok?" Hermione asked once more, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Yes, I'll be fine. Would you like me to show you out?" Janine offered.

"No, we'll be ok, thank you," Harry replied. "I'm _really_ sorry," he said to her, and she shrugged.

"Like you said, nothing you could do." Hermione sighed and followed the boys down the stairs, making their way to the front door. They let themselves out quietly and left the orphanage.

They disappeared down a dark alleyway after Harry suggested they go back to Godric's Hollow, and with three loud successive cracks, they disappeared.

Naturally the muggles didn't notice a thing.

* * *


	6. Chapter Five: A Success, Of Sorts

**A/N:** Argh, I started editing this chapter last Sunday, but then I got called downstairs and New York holidays were booked and chapter remained unedited. THe annoying thing about having two computers (only one with internet) is that your memory stick is never in the right place at the right time, and what with me being the laziest person on the planet, going and getting it is a matter that is entirely out of the question. Anyway, sorry for the wait, thanks a million for the reviews (I got LOADS last chapter, so keep it up, they make me happy!) and I hope you enjoy this chapter. Oh, and it's the Doctor Who finale on Saturday, which means a couple of things: a) I'm not inspired to write HP stuff, and have instead been pummeling out Whovian nonsense and b) I will be incapacitated due to excitement, shock and a various selection of emotions, so an update at the weekend is probably not going to happen as I'll be trying to recover, as well as watching the episode over and over and over. I'm a geek, so sue me. Sorry for this horrendously long note, but the chapter is here now. Enjoy.

* * *

**By Any Other Name.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Chapter Five: A Success, Of Sorts.

Ron set the box down on the coffee table in the lounge and Harry sat down on the sofa, rubbing his face tiredly, trying to get his head around the events that had just occurred. "Tell you what," Hermione said, "There's a shop in the village, I'll go and get some food and we can look at this stuff after we've had some lunch." Ron's stomach took the opportunity to rumble audibly as though agreeing with Hermione's plan.

"Don't forget tea," he said as she made her way to the front door, "tea's very important." Hermione smiled and left the cottage, before walking towards the local shop.

She returned a short while later and began to make some lunch. She set a mug of tea and a sandwich down in front of each of the boys before sitting down in an armchair, cradling her own mug in between her hands, her sandwich lying expectantly on its plate, which was balanced on top of a stack of books on the coffee table. The weather was still horrendous, and her fingers were quite numb from her brief trip into the village, but they gradually began to warm through while she gripped her mug as though it were her life support machine.

Harry pulled something out of the box which caught Hermione's eye. It was a small dark book, which looked like it had seen better days. She was helped in her judgement due to the fact that there was a large gaping hole in the middle of it. "Is that-" she began, but she was interrupted by Harry.

"No," he answered, "But it's similar. Dobby has the old one. I don't know what he did with it actually…"

"Why did he have two? D'you think it was one that went wrong?" Hermione enquired, setting down her mug on the coffee table and taking the book from Harry, flicking through the pages.

"I think it was a defence mechanism. That hole is quite cleanly cut yeah?"

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, "It looks really fresh."

"I think he put the boggart in there. And when somebody touched his things…well, you saw what happened," Harry said grimly. Ron swallowed a mouthful of tea before joining in the conversation.

"But a boggart couldn't actually scare someone to death could it? I mean, she wasn't old, she wasn't…fragile, if you like. She was perfectly fine, yet she died the second she saw it. How?" He picked up his sandwich, taking a large bite and chewing it thoroughly, before swallowing it down.

"Maybe spending the last fifty years in Voldemort's diary increased its magical power? And what with Voldemort's magic being so dark, it's bound to have an effect on it, making the boggart that much darker. Or maybe Voldemort worked out how to change it, so anyone who _did_ touch his things wouldn't touch them again." Hermione guessed. "Just a thought. I mean it's got to be different living in a book as opposed to a wardrobe or something."

"Yeah but how could he get a living thing inside a diary? I mean part of your soul is one thing, but a living, breathing creature?"

"I don't know Ron," Hermione told him tiredly. It was only one o'clock and her brain was tiring. She wasn't used to feeling so mentally worn out so early in the day. "He's Voldemort, it's what he does."

"He's a genius," Harry said simply. "Ollivander said the day I got my wand, that he did great things. 'Terrible, but great' he said. And he was right wasn't he? The only person who's ever been able to match him was Dumbledore, but now what are we left with?"

"You," Ron told him, and his face broke into a smile, causing Hermione to frown after taking a small bite from her sandwich, placing it back on the plate when she realised she didn't really want it. "You're forgetting that he's tried millions of times to kill you, but he's never managed it, has he? I mean, you _duelled_ with him when you were only fourteen! That takes some doing, mate. You're more than a match for him, and Dumbledore knew it. Everybody knows it. _Voldemort _knows it, that's why he keeps trying to get rid of you while you're still young. He's terrified of you!" Ron let out a maniacal laugh and Hermione beamed at him.

"Ron's right, you're more than capable of doing this Harry," Harry ran a frustrated hand through his messy hair and sighed. "And I know you don't believe it Harry, but it's true. Can you honestly say that all those times you've come out of dealings with him, it's been based entirely upon luck?"

"But it _is_ based on luck! I just get lucky, and I manage to scramble my way out of things messily, there's no talent involved, it's just how it is!"

"You're missing the point entirely Harry," Ron told him, "Because we know you can do this. And deep down, you know it too."

"Let a little arrogance come out," Hermione said with a very uncharacteristic smirk on her face. "Let Voldemort, and all his little groupies know that you will destroy them. Because you can walk the walk, you just can't talk the talk."

"Groupies?" Ron asked confusedly.

"Never mind, Ron," Harry said, picking up his own sandwich at last. He was smiling now, thankful for the morale boost his two best friends had given him.

"Now," Hermione started, "what else is in that box?"

After an hour of looking through the contents of the box, they discovered that there was nothing of much importance in there. The diary had been the main item of interest, but apart from that there wasn't much at all in there that was relevant to what they were looking for.

They did find a map, which showed Little Hangleton and the surrounding area, an inky circle outlining the border of the village. Apart from that it was mostly personal belongings; a few novels which had been read quite thoroughly, a couple of items of clothing as well as some quills and ink bottles.

"Wouldn't they have thought it odd that he was using quills?" Harry asked.

"Why would they think that?"

"Because, Ron, muggles use pens. Like so," Hermione reached over for her bag and rummaged through it, pulling out an old bus timetable and a biro.

"What on earth is that?" Ron asked, astounded at the sight of the pen.

"It's what muggles use to write with," Hermione informed him. "Honestly, you really should have taken muggle studies, or at least asked your dad a bit about muggles."

"What's the point? I don't live with muggles so I don't need to know," Ron replied, causing Hermione send him a disapproving look.

"But you do live with muggles. Your village isn't completely wizard populated is it?" Harry asked, before Hermione could jump in and start berating Ron for his sheer narrow-mindedness.

"I s'pose," Ron agreed, "Never really though about it like that before if I'm honest." Harry gave Hermione a pointed look and she leant back in her seat, drinking down the last of her now lukewarm tea.

* * *

"Ron, get up," Hermione demanded, nudging him with her foot not quite as gently as he would have liked her to. "Same goes for you Harry," she nudged him as well, and he sat up, rubbed his eyes and put his glasses on. He yawned loudly before clambering out of his sleeping bag and stretching, his knuckles brushing against the ceiling. 

Ron groaned, having received another nudge from Hermione, and mumbled something that made Hermione nudge him again, even harder. "I think that's bordering on 'kicking' Hermione," Harry grinned, before wandering into the kitchen and putting some bread in the toaster.

Harry chuckled to himself as he poured some water into the kettle, Hermione's voice carrying in from the other room. "Honestly Ronald! If Death Eaters were storming the place, would you really say to them 'give us another minute, I'm still tired?'" Harry couldn't make out Ron's mumbled reply, but Hermione had heard it quite clearly, because she threatened to hex him into next week if he didn't get up in the next five seconds.

The threat seemed to work, because Ron stumbled into the kitchen a few moments later, shaking his head with his eyes wide. "Is it just her? Or is it all women? I swear…" He yawned and sat down at the kitchen table, grabbing a piece of toast before Harry had even put the plate on the down.

"I think it must just be you Ron," Harry joked, earning himself a mock glare from Ron.

Hermione, who had already found the time to have a shower and get dressed, joined them at the table, took a piece of toast, and bit into it, obviously deep in thought while she chewed it.

"What?" Ron asked. Hermione looked up at him and frowned.

"I was just thinking, that's all," she replied.

"About what?" he persisted.

"It doesn't matter," Hermione answered, taking another bite of her toast. The truth was that she was thinking about a number of things. Her main concern was Malfoy, and when he was going to next get in touch. Had he told her about the Patils to ensure she trusted him? Although, she reasoned, he did get her the books concerning dark defensive spells, which were promising to be of great use. And he had ripped that thing off of her jacket, and most importantly, she'd probably be dead if he hadn't killed that Death Eater. She had reluctantly resigned to trust him, because he hadn't put a foot wrong as of yet, but she vowed to herself that the second he did anything that was mildly suspicious, she would, well, she'd think of that when the occasion arose.

By ten o'clock, the boys had got washed and dressed and the three of them were ready to leave. "Right," Harry said, looking at the other two, "Little Hangleton, here we come."

The three of them disappeared and reappeared in the graveyard that so often haunted Harry in his sleep.

Hermione watched as Harry's eyes glazed over slightly, and chewed on her lip as he stared intensely at a patch of grass near one of the many gravestones. After a minute or so, he shook his head, as though try to ward off a persistent fly, and Hermione knew he'd had some sort of flashback to that night two years ago.

Harry began to stride up the steep hill that led to the Riddle House and Hermione and Ron quickly followed. "I don't suppose," Hermione began, pausing to inhale deeply. "I don't suppose he still _uses_ this place, does he?"

"I shouldn't think so," Harry replied, turning around so he was facing her, and walking backwards up the hill, occasionally glancing over his shoulder for any obstacles. "The Ministry knows he used this place, he's not stupid enough to have his secret base here. But even so, keep an eye out for signs of booby traps."

After a few minutes, they reached the front door of the house, and Ron let out a low whistle. "I bet this was something a bit special once upon a time," he commented.

Harry muttered a quick charm and the door swung open smoothly, as though its hinges were not rusty at all, and the wood was not splintered and rotting, hanging off of the door in large chunks. They climbed the dusty staircase, and the floorboards creaked loudly, although the sound was softened by the thick covering of dust under their feet. There were faint traces of old footprints, a wide curvy stripe, as though something had been dragged, but they had since become covered with layers of dust.

"This is so familiar," Harry told them quietly. "Just like the dream…except it was night then…and Voldemort and Wormtail were here."

"So basically, you're climbing the same manky old staircase that you were then?" Ron asked, hiding a grin.

"Yeah," Harry replied, smiling wryly, "That about sums it up."

"Bit of an odd smell," Ron said, sniffing the air before crinkling his nose in disgust.

"Yeah, well I think they had a rat problem here," Harry joked half-heartedly, allowing himself the faintest of grim smiles before looking around the landing.

Harry and Ron were looking in one of the bedrooms, while Hermione glanced quickly in the bathroom, before deciding that it was highly unlikely that Voldemort had hidden a Horcrux in the cistern of the absolutely ancient toilet. She looked around at all the closed doors on the landing, her eyes pausing on one that squashed in between the doors of two of the bedrooms. A cupboard, perhaps? She walked towards it carefully, before reaching her hand out, and opening the door.

The second she saw what was inside, she let out an uncharacteristic, high pitched scream of terror, causing Harry and Ron to come running to her, wands at the ready, looking around for what had caused such a reaction.

Hermione's gaze was fixated on something in the cupboard, and Harry grabbed the door, pulling it open properly so he and Ron could see what was in there.

It turned out that the smell Ron had commented on earlier was not due to a rat problem, but more to do with a rotting, slimy corpse that was crumpled in the cupboard. Harry slammed the door shut; not wanting to see any more maggots crawling around the skeletal form that everyone had now realised was once the old muggle gardener who worked for the Riddles. The old muggle man who thought he'd been climbing those stairs to confront some antisocial teenagers. Instead, he had found himself confronting Voldemort, and quite soon after that, he knew no more.

Hermione was still staring at the spot where she had seen the body, even though the door was now in between her and the corpse. Harry guided her away from the spot and pulled her into a comforting hug, while Ron looked like he was trying to keep his breakfast inside his digestive system.

"Sorry," Hermione said after a few moments, pulling away from Harry and straightening her jacket out, looking up at the once-white ceiling, hoping to clear her mind of what she had just seen. "It just…it took me by surprise, that's all."

"I think a rotting body'd take anyone by surprise," Ron told her, grimacing slightly. Hermione nodded, and walked towards another room, opening the door slightly and glancing in, making sure that the contents were not as unpleasant as that which was hidden behind the last door she had opened.

Satisfied that there were no corpses of any kind, Hermione opened the door a little wider and stepped inside.

Her eyes were drawn immediately past the large, high-backed chair to the fireplace, a few feet in front of it. Sitting on the mantle, shining slightly in the sun that was filtering in through the mucky window, was a cup. Hermione took a few tentative steps towards it, frowning as she tried to make out the carved design on it. "Harry…" she called, quietly, as though not wanting to disturb the cup. "You might want to see this." Harry and Ron came quickly into the room, their interest piqued at what curious thing Hermione had found. She turned slowly to look at the two boys and Harry was nodding, his smile growing wider and wider.

"You're getting too good at this Hermione," Ron told her, looking at the cup in disbelief.

"It can't have been here long, it's got no dust on it at all," Harry said, frowning slightly. "D'you think it's a trap? A decoy or something? I mean, would he really leave it above a fireplace in some house?" Hermione shook her head, reaching out a hand to prove her point.

Her hand stopped moving towards the cup when it was about a foot away, and she looked up at Harry, who let out a small noise of understanding as he realised their was a magical barrier around the cup. Hermione pressed her hand flat against it looking like a mime artist as she felt her way around the barrier.

"So we have to leave it here?" Harry asked, as though this was the most ridiculous suggestion on the planet. Hermione nodded.

"I can't pick it up, and until I find out the counter-spell, we can't move it at all. But that's alright," Harry's disappointed look perked up, "because as long as we can't move it, neither can anyone else."

"Except Voldemort," Harry reasoned.

"Except Voldemort," Hermione agreed.

* * *

When they were outside of the house, Hermione looked up at it, frowning slightly. "Should we…I don't know, make it a little more secure? Because people might not be able to move it, but if someone comes across it and then the ministry get involved, goodness knows what they'd do with it once they'd lifted the curse. Probably put it in a museum somewhere, not realising what it was." Harry agreed and they quickly set about placing charms on the house, making it unplottable, amongst other things. 

Once they had apparated back to Godric's hollow, Hermione immediately began poring over the large books which Malfoy had given her. There was a lot of information about dark curses, but nothing which really helped them with the cup. After a while she sighed, shutting her current book loudly, putting on the table before leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes.

She opened them again as she heard a small '_chink_' and smiled when she saw a steaming mug of tea sitting on the coffee table. Harry sat down next to her and nodded towards the pile of books. "Any luck?" he asked.

"No," Hermione sighed. "There's _loads_ of useful stuff in there, but it's all completely useless for this." She sipped her tea cautiously, testing the warmth of it. She blew on the hot liquid a little, causing small ripples in it, before drinking down a few mouthfuls and setting it down once more.

"Don't give up though," Harry told her, "you _always_ find what you're looking for in the end."

"I'm sure I will, but time is of the essence Harry, and we can't afford to let this drag on." Hermione ran a hand through her hair, her mind working overtime as she tried to think of something or someone that would be able to give her some useful information. She immediately thought of Professor Dumbledore, but quickly pushed that thought aside as it wasn't going to help her now, and would only serve to make her mood worse.

Ron walked into the living room, sandwich in one hand and cup of tea in the other. "Ah, cheers Ron," Harry said, reaching up and tugging the sandwich from his grasp, taking a large bite out of it. Ron stared open mouthed at Harry, muttering something that neither Hermione nor Harry could quite hear. He wandered back into the kitchen, obviously setting about making himself another sandwich.

"You can make me one while you're at it!" Hermione called, and they heard Ron mutter some form of protest from the kitchen.

Harry grinned at Hermione, who grinned back.

* * *

Hermione's eyes took longer to focus when she awoke the next morning, and once her vision had cleared enough for her to be able to check the time on her watch, she groaned, realising it was past midday. 

It was unlike her to sleep past ten o'clock, even in the summer holidays, but she didn't think on it for long, as there was a searing pain in her hands. She turned them over, and gasped when she that her palms were completely inflamed, the skin peeling off them in large chunks, blisters scattered all over them.

Before she could yell for Harry and Ron however, she had slumped onto the floor, consciousness evading her.

* * *


	7. Chapter Six: Common Sense

**A/N:** Okay, first off, let me explain with some simple maths. Laziness plus lack of inspiration plus hormonal internet plus Doctor Who finale plus Deathly Hallows plus squeeing plus feeling UC in incredible amounts (Tonks/Snape (amongst others), was a request, interesting one at that) equals horrendously long gap between updates. _However_, it is 2.30am, I just edited this chapter, and I think I might be in a writing mood (which is good because I'm running out of chapters quite quickly). If it's any consolation, it's been grating on my mind a _lot_ and I do feel guilty when I think about all you lovely people who have read and reviewed my story. Also, I just wanted to add, nothing will be changing in the slightest to fit in with the Deathly Hallows. I think JK has made quite sure that this won't fit in, but there's one tiny thing that happens in a much later chapter that _could_ be linked, but it's so inconsequential that it barely matters. Anyway, apologies for the long wait, and I assure you it will not happen again. (Not this long, anyway).

* * *

**By Any Other Name.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Chapter Six: Common Sense.

"I think it's high time I gave Hermione a wake up call," Ron said to Harry, grinning evilly.

"I'm telling you, it'll only backfire," Harry assured him. Ron shrugged and went into the living room, where Hermione was sprawled on the floor, half-covered by her sleeping bag.

"Hermione," Ron called loudly. "Wakey wakey!" He frowned when Hermione didn't stir. Not only was it unusual for Hermione to sleep so late, but Ron knew that she was a very light sleeper too, so for her to not even react when he called her name was extremely out of the ordinary. He nudged her with his foot, like she had done to him the previous morning.

She didn't move.

"Hermione?" Ron dropped onto his knees and began shaking her by the shoulders, still not getting a reaction. "Harry! Something's wrong!"

Harry dropped the day's edition of the _Daily Prophet_ and arrived almost instantly in the living room. "Harry, what's up with her hands?" Ron asked, holding her arm up so Harry could see her blistered palms, carefully avoiding making contact with them.

"Dark magic…" Harry whispered. "Oh she can be so stupid!" he cried in frustration. "Why did she touch it? She's supposed to be clever!"

"The barrier?" Ron asked. Harry nodded.

"Pick her up, we're going to St Mungo's," Harry instructed. Ron complied immediately.

Within seconds, they had both apparated into the reception at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Luckily, there were large numbers of wizards and witches with varying degrees of injury, and the place was pandemonium as per usual. Once they had pushed their way to the front of the queue, ignoring several shouts of "Oi! We were here first!" the receptionist took one look at Harry, and then saw Hermione in Ron's arms. A healer came rushing towards them guiding them into a private room, where Ron set Hermione down on the neatly made hospital bed.

"What happened?" the healer asked quickly, checking Hermione over. He frowned when he came to her hands.

"We think it was some sort of dark magic, it didn't affect her until today. So there was a delay of about…twelve hours at least." Harry looked at the healer. "Is she going to be alright?"

"I've never seen anything like this before," the healer told him, a grim expression on his face. "We'll get some experts in; I can only do so much."

"Will she survive?" Ron pressed the healer for a definite answer.

"Until we know what she's been cursed by, we can't say." He left the room quickly, leaving Harry and Ron standing next to Hermione's bed in silence.

"Harry, what if she-"

"She won't," Harry said through gritted teeth. "She won't because we _need_ her."

The healer returned with a group of important looking wizards, who quickly surrounded the bed where Hermione lay, showing no apparent signs of life. Harry and Ron were pushed to the edges of the room, unable to see what the healers were doing to Hermione. After a few minutes, Harry and Ron were told to go and wait outside while they tried to treat her.

After hours of pacing, impatient sighs and frustrated hands running through hair, one of the healers emerged from the room. Harry and Ron immediately went over to him, desperate for an answer as to how their friend was coping. "We haven't cured her," the healer told them, trying very hard to keep eye contact, "but she's conscious, we just don't know how long she'll stay like that."

"Well make an estimate," Ron growled, but he was held back by Harry.

"I don't care how much it costs, or how many people you have to get here to treat her, but you have to make her better."

"We can't cure her if we don't know what's wrong," the healer emphasised, not unkindly.

"Which is why you need to get the very best people in," Harry told him. The healer took a step back, obviously wary of the teenage boy in front of him who was making such high demands.

"With all respect Mr Potter, we have all the dark magic experts from this hospital working solely on her case." Harry breathed in deeply, and the healer was beginning to look quite worried.

"That may be the case, but you haven't got the best in the world. If she doesn't get better then you might as well start making your own funeral arrangements, because fighting this war is completely pointless if we don't have Hermione. So if you don't know what's wrong with her, I suggest you find out, for your own sake, if not for hers." The healer nodded nervously and left the corridor quickly, not wanting to hang around to face any more of Harry's wrath.

The rest of the healers filed out of Hermione's room, obviously pleased that it wasn't them who had exited first. When the last one had got out of the way, looking very determinedly at the ground, Harry and Ron made their way into the room, where a very pale and tired looking Hermione was sitting up in bed, only just awake enough to acknowledge their presence. Her hands were covered in thick bandages, much like they had been when Hermione received the bubotuber pus in one of the hate-based letters she had received during their fourth year.

"I feel a bit foolish," she told them quietly, her voice weak. Ron just stared at her, not believing that this was Hermione who sat before them, a shadow of the person she had been yesterday. Harry pulled up a chair next to her bed and sat down beside her. Ron followed suit a second or so later and Hermione smiled tiredly.

"You're an idiot, Hermione," Ron informed her. "A complete and utter idiot." Hermione managed a small laugh and shifted in her bed slightly.

"I wish we had you trying to find the cure…no doubt you'd find it in three seconds flat," Harry said sadly.

"Oh I doubt it, it's one of Voldemort's own I imagine. They won't find a cure," she said this almost confidently, as though she were proud of having something unique wrong with her.

"Then _we'll_ find the cure," Ron said, his voice strong and determined. "Harry's getting them to use the best people in the world as well, so between the lot of us, we _will_ find a cure." Hermione smiled at his confidence. She knew deep down that sometime in the next few days, she'd go to sleep and not wake up again, but the boys needed hope, so she let them have it, even if she herself did not.

"How are your hands?" Harry asked. "They looked terrible when we found you."

"Numb." Hermione replied simply. "It's like when your Dad got bitten by that snake, Ron, the wound kept opening up. Same story here. As soon as my hands start to heal over, they burn up again. They've dosed me up on a pain relief potion though, so I can't feel them."

"What made you think it was a remotely good idea to _touch_ it?" Harry asked frustratedly, ruffling his hair so it looked like he'd just had a particularly eventful quidditch match.

"I didn't think." Hermione told him simply. "I was just so amazed by the spell that I didn't think. I mean, that must have been there for a long time, and to keep a spell like that still as powerful as it was on the first day that he did it, I mean, that's brilliant. Can't you appreciate how brilliant that is?"

"I s'pose," Harry replied reluctantly. "But you knew it was something Voldemort had done, why didn't you just…" he let out an aggravated sigh and sat back in his chair, giving into the fact that he would never know what on Earth possessed Hermione to touch the barrier. She hadn't just touched it though; she had felt it from every angle. It was a bit more than an experimental poke of the finger.

"I'll let mum and dad know, they'll kill me if they find out another way." Hermione's eyes widened at the thought of a hysterical Mrs Weasley and she bit her lip. "She'll find out on way or another," Ron assured her, knowing what Hermione's nervousness was about, "and if they do find a cure, she'll kill us all for not saying anything. So it's probably best if I tell her now." Hermione gave in and nodded, disappearing with a pop.

"Brace yourself," Harry told her, allowing himself to smile.

"Would I be a bad person if I pretended to be asleep?"

Harry chuckled.

* * *

As expected, when Ron returned with Mrs Weasley and Ginny following on behind him, there was a huge fuss made. Only when one of the healers ventured into the room and informed them that 'Miss Granger needs to be completely relaxed', did Mrs Weasley begin to breathe, allowing Hermione, Ron and Harry to take a couple of breaths themselves, while they had the chance. 

"Would you like us to tell your parents, Hermione?" Mrs Weasley asked, a few moments later. Hermione shook her head. "But surely they should know…"

"They'll only get worried, and coming here would be too much of a culture shock for them. They don't understand it all. Besides, I'll be fine." Mrs Weasley smiled slightly, missing Ron and Harry's dark looks.

"Of course you will dear," she smoothed the bed sheets with a slightly shaky hand, before moving a stray lock of hair out of Hermione's face. Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother's nervous fussing, but said nothing. They had opted not to tell the rest of Ron's family of how serious Hermione's condition actually was, due to the fact that Mrs Weasley would most likely implode, explode, and have a nervous breakdown all at the same time.

Fred and George came to visit later on in the evening, managing to get laughs out of just about everyone, including Mrs Weasley, which even shocked the twins.

George was left alone with Hermione while the others went up to the fifth floor to get something to eat, and Hermione was surprised when he sat down at her bedside, all traces of humour gone. "You're lying to us," he said. Hermione let her head fall back gently against the wall, glancing over at George after a few seconds' silence.

"Don't say anything, _please_," she begged him.

"I won't. It's just…you know, we care about you."

"And I care about all of you, which is why I don't want to get you all worried and upset."

"But you're _dying_." George told her, as though she hadn't quite grasped the concept.

"Yes, I know that George," Hermione retorted, raising her voice for the first time since she had been admitted to the hospital. "But what will change if I told everyone?" George looked away, knowing she was right. "There are things worth dying for," Hermione whispered gently, echoing Sirius' words of a few years previously.

"Stupidity isn't one of them though."

"Someone had to touch it. If it had been Harry then we'd have lost everything. Surely that's worth it?"

"Well they might still find a cure…"

"George, Voldemort doesn't write down all the counter-curses to his own spells in a little book. We can't just look it up in a library. We just have to accept that what's happened has happened. And the inevitable will happen. Did you honestly think we'd all make it out of this unscathed?" Her tone was soft, and sympathetic. She was surprised with the ease she had accepted her fate, but when there were no other options, one had to face up to the facts – and Hermione had been a fact-facer all her life.

"I'll miss you," George told her quietly, avoiding her eye.

"See you on the other side, maybe. Not too soon though." George nodded, getting up quickly and leaving the room.

"Where's George?" Fred asked when he, Ron, Harry, Ginny and Mrs Weasley returned, a few minutes after George's departure.

"He went for a walk."

* * *

_HERMIONE GRANGER: ON HER DEATHBED?_

_Hermione Granger, one of Harry Potter's best friends, was admitted to St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries today, after supposedly coming into contact with dark magic. A reliable source has said that Miss Granger (aged just 18 years) may not recover from the unknown curse that she has come into contact with. Harry Potter has allegedly demanded that experts in dark magic from all over the world be drafted in to work on finding a cure for Miss Granger, a desperate measure which shows how serious the situation is. _

_Miss Granger, a muggle born, was tipped to be Head Girl, but instead of returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year to take up the position, she has taken a very prominent lead in the war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, helping the Boy Who Lived and his other best friend Ron Weasley attempt to bring about the Dark Lord's downfall. She was seen in the company of Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum on various occasions during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, almost three years ago_

_Story continued on page 5, column 2. _

Hermione threw the copy of the _Evening Prophet_ to one side, her face set in a deep scowl. "Honestly, who on Earth writes this rubbish?" her voice so bossy, that she was almost like her old self once more. She was putting up a brave front for the Weasleys, but her façade wasn't being helped along at all by Harry and Ron, who kept sending concerned looks her way every few minutes, ready to spring into action if she so much as coughed.

"Well you were always going to be Head Girl, so they got that right," Ron told her, ducking the half-hearted whack that Hermione sent in his direction. It was at this point a healer entered the room, drawing the attention of everyone onto himself. He cleared his throat nervously.

"Visiting hours are over I'm afraid," he said, "Miss Granger needs rest." He shuffled quickly from the room before any of them could protest.

"Come on Mum," Fred said, "Let the poor girl get some sleep." Mrs Weasley agreed and stood up, straightening out her light green coloured robes, before planting a kiss on Hermione's forehead, smoothing her sheets once more.

"See you later Hermione," Ginny said cheerfully.

"Yeah, and try to keep out of trouble while you're here," Fred told her, winking at her before opening the door to Hermione's room, letting Ginny step outside first.

"Take care of yourself dear. We'll be back first thing in the morning. If you need anything, just ask-"

"Mum, she needs rest," Ron said pointedly. Mrs Weasley nodded, hugging Ron and Harry in turn, before leaving through the door which Fred still held open.

"Go," Hermione told Harry and Ron a short while later. Ron began to protest but Harry interrupted.

"Those books you got in Diagon Alley, they were about dark defensive spells, weren't they?"

"I…yeah," Hermione hadn't even thought about those. Not that she had much hope of them being any use now. She doubted Voldemort would just pick a spell out of any old book that could be found in Knockturn Alley.

But, she supposed, they weren't just any old books. Malfoy had got them for her, but he hadn't said where from. For all she knew they could have come straight from his library at home. Or, with his power and social status, all over the shopkeepers in Knockturn Alley would bend over backwards to accommodate his needs. Perhaps there was the tiniest, minimal, shred of hope. Hermione broke into a smile.

Harry and Ron had disapparated a few minutes later, Hermione having told them which books she hadn't been as thorough with whilst searching for information, as well as though that seemed to be most promising. It was only after they had gone did she let her complete lack of energy overtake her, shifting on her bed so she was laying down, her eyelids fluttering shut quickly, taking her into a dreamless sleep, which was probably due to all the potions she had been given.

* * *

When she awoke it was pitch black. It was only when she attempted to sit up did she realise that there was a hand over her mouth. She looked up to see Malfoy standing above her, a finger pressed firmly to his lips. Hermione nodded and he removed his hand. "You really are the most stupid, idiotic, senseless, irresponsible, dim-witted, unintelligent, incompetent, foolish, dense person I have ever had the misfortune to meet," he hissed. 

Hermione didn't have the energy to snap back a retort at him, so she settled for watching him as he took the bandages off of one of her hands. He winced when he saw the burnt flesh underneath, but nodded nonetheless. "What on Earth were you thinking Granger? You find a magical barrier, and you think, 'ooh, I know! I'll touch it as much as I can!' You know if you'd touched it the once you wouldn't be in hospital. The burn is a 'keep away' warning, no one's ever been stupid enough for it to be their cause of death before. I'm surprised the healers don't recognise it, it's fairly well known…if you're in the right circles." Hermione frowned at his knowledge of the situation, trying to direct her eyes away from the mess that was her left hand. "I…_persuaded_ one of the healers to get me up to date. The story in the Prophet wasn't as farfetched as they normally are. Perhaps they are learning about something called the truth."

"Yeah, because you'd know all about that," hissed Hermione, although she immediately wished she hadn't. Malfoy looked sharply at her, before dropping her hand back down onto the sheets. "Sorry," she mumbled. He ignored her and rifled through the pockets in his cloak, finally pulling out a small vial of gently bubbling liquid.

"Drink," he ordered. She sat up and he put it to her lips, tipping it slightly so she could drink down the potion. She felt tears begin to sting in her eyes as the potion burned its way down her throat, and once it was all gone, she collapsed back against the headboard of her bed. She looked on in amazement as her hand began to heal over instantly, the burns disappearing and leaving her hands looking as though they had never suffered so much as a pinprick. She felt her energy levels soar, although she still felt incredibly weak, and her mind seemed to speed up a little, becoming more and more able to process her thoughts in split seconds.

"What was that?" she asked as she took the bandages off of her other hand to see if that had healed as well. She smiled when she realised it had, waggling her fingers as though taking her hands for a test drive.

"A cure," Malfoy replied, obviously not wanting to let her in on the secret.

"Well you'd better tell me how to make it, in case something like this happens again," she reasoned.

"Granger, you're not stupid enough to touch it again. And if anybody else does, they won't be stupid enough to practically cling to the damn thing," Malfoy drawled, earning himself a glare from Hermione. He sat down in the chair Harry had vacated hours ago and fell silent.

"You need some more bandages on your hands; otherwise people will know someone's been here."

"Not those ones though," Hermione replied, gesturing to the bandages which had been tossed lazily aside. They were covered in all sorts of nasty, infection-induced fluids, which Hermione didn't fancy having on her hands again. Malfoy flicked his wand lazily and Hermione's hands were promptly wrapped in thick, fresh bandages. She raised her eyebrows at Malfoy who shrugged.

"Why are you surprised that I'm a good wizard?"

"No, it's just…"

"Even the most insufferable people can be very good at what they do, and before you make a feeble attempt at being witty or sarcastic, I am by no means calling myself insufferable."

"Intolerable?" Hermione suggested.

"So intolerable that I came here to save your silly little life."

"Well quite," Hermione agreed.

"It's worth it though. A life for a life. I take it you haven't forgotten that you'll be vouching for me at the end of all this."

"No," Hermione replied, "I haven't forgotten. Nor should you forget that the deal only stands if you continue to help." Malfoy nodded.

"I understand your concerns. After all, I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you if you warned me that the Dark Lord was after me, and you led him to a family, making him believe it was mine so my own would be spared, as well as informing me of a planned attack on people who I would like to protect, and of course, if you saved _my_ life then I'd feel completely and utterly betrayed right then and there." Hermione chuckled softly and Malfoy stood up from his seat.

"Until next time Granger," Malfoy said, turning away.

"Goodbye, Malfoy," she replied, pausing a second before calling after him, "Malfoy?" He turned around. "Thank you."

He nodded, and left the room quickly, his dark cloak swirling behind him.

* * *


	8. Chapter Seven: A Thought

**A/N:** Here's your update, thanks for the reviews, they always make my day. Not sure when the next chapter will be up, I'm going to New York next Monday and won't be back 'til the following Tuesday, and the day after I'm enrolling at college and working, so it might be a while. I don't think I'll be able to post it before I go either, because it's not fully written yet, but if it _is_ written I'll post it, and try to knock up the next chapter when I'm on the aeroplane or something. Although I'll be sitting next to my mother and I don't want her peering over my should the whole time, because she doesn't know about my postings on here, mostly because she'd want to read them and that is _quite_ out of the question. I posted a Dramione oneshot a few days ago which you might enjoy - I only realised how excruciatingly similar it was to 'The Bench' the other day when I was lying in bed thinking about the wretched thing. But it's only really in structure and progress...and the fact that a lot of it revolves around food (Hogwarts students should be obese, in my opinion) but yeah, If you have time, have a look at it and let me know what you think. And there's a Tom Riddle fic which is very tiny, so you might as well have a look at that too, haha. Enough of the shameless self-advertising though, as this A/N is _really_ getting out of hand. Here's your chapter, so read, review, and enjoy.

* * *

**By Any Other Name.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Chapter Seven: A Thought.

The next morning, Hermione was awoken by the healer who came in to check on her. She tried to act surprised when he took the bandages off of her hands to reveal unblemished skin covering hands which were in perfect working order. He checked Hermione over more thoroughly to find that overnight, without any treatment, she had fully recovered from a spell which, to his knowledge, didn't exist. He called for the other healers, and they all came quickly, surrounding her bed, inspecting every part of her for any signs of the curse and could find nothing.

"Well, Miss Granger," the healer in charge started, "We don't know what to say. I think we'll keep you in for a few more days, just to make sure it doesn't resurface, but it looks as though you'll be back to your old self in no time." Hermione smiled gratefully and the healers left the room, talking amongst themselves about her miracle recovery. Another healer poked his head around the door, his face looking worried. "We've got another drink-flier. He's in a pretty bad way." The Healers nodded and rushed off to fix up the new patient.

An hour later, Ron and Harry arrived in Hermione's room, looking completely wrecked. It had turned out that they'd been looking through the books all night, not even bothering to sleep. When they'd found nothing of any particular use, they had searched through them again, not wanting to give up on their best friend when her life was at stake.

It was with some surprise that they found Hermione sitting up and eating some breakfast, her hands now free of bandages, her face fresh and alive. "It's alright, I'm cured," she told them, a broad smile spreading across her face.

"But…how?" Harry asked. "The healers said they didn't know what it was. I mean, I'm not complaining, because it's fantastic, but, I just don't understand how."

"I don't know, Harry," Hermione lied.

"Well it doesn't matter," Ron said, "You're alive, and you're staying that way." Hermione smiled at him. "I'll go and tell mum, so she can come and fuss over you again." He disapparated, leaving Harry standing next to Hermione's bed, looking around awkwardly as though he wanted to say something.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"I just...I dunno, I feel like I'm missing something."

"Like what?" she pressed, frowning slightly as Harry pondered his reply.

"Well it's all falling into place quite nicely, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you finding out about the attacks, finding the horcruxes, you making a miracle recovery overnight when even the best medi-wizards in this place couldn't even diagnose you, let alone cure you."

"Well maybe it was just meant to be a deterrent, make you seriously ill so you'd know not to touch it again." Hermione reasoned. She was half telling the truth, after all, Malfoy had said it was a deterrent, but it wasn't one that you'd recover from overnight, especially in Hermione's case, where she had completely overdosed on it.

"But they said you were dying, and now we come back, and you're fine. You haven't even got any scars on your hands," Harry sat down in the chair next to Hermione's bed.

"It doesn't matter Harry. All that matters is that things are going our way. And as long as they keep going our way, we'll be alright."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, but Hermione could tell he hadn't let it go, merely tucked it away at the back of his mind so he could think about it more thoroughly later on. She was slightly relieved when Ron arrived back in her room, Mrs Weasley and Ginny bringing up the rear.

"Ron said you're completely fine!" Mrs Weasley gushed, rushing over to Hermione and hugging her tightly. "Oh that's _wonderful_ dear. I can't tell you how relieved I am." Hermione smiled as Mrs Weasley fussed over her, telling her that she must be more careful in future, and that they were going to end up seriously hurt one of these days. Hermione ignored the pointed look Harry gave her, and assured Mrs Weasley that they'd be fine.

By lunchtime, Mrs Weasley and Ginny had gone back to the Burrow, Harry and Ron accompanying them, after assuring Hermione they'd be back tomorrow. Harry had popped back to Godric's Hollow to pick up a few books which Hermione could spend her time perusing, so she was all set for the rest of the day.

It was quite late in the day when Hermione received one last visitor, and she felt incredibly guilty when she saw his face. She hadn't even _thought_ to ask Ron or Harry to tell him she was fine. She'd been completely selfish.

"Mum said you're fine," Hermione nodded and George moved over to the side of her bed and pulled her into a hug. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, d'you understand?"

"I'm sorry, I should have sent Ron to tell you I was ok, but I just sort of...forgot." George shook his head.

"Don't worry about it. How did they cure you then?"

"They didn't, it just healed itself. I think it might have been a flu type thing, you know, has to get worse before it gets better." George seemed to accept this, and he sat down in the chair next to her bed, chatting to her about everything and nothing, until one of the healers came in and told him visiting hours were over. He gave Hermione one last hug, before he apparated back to the shop.

Hermione smiled, and picked up her book, eager to learn about a curse which completely disorientated the victim, so they wouldn't know left from right, and would end up just standing in the same spot, turning around while they tried to work out which way they wanted to go. Depending on how powerful the wizard was, it could last for between a few minutes to a few hours. It would definitely come in useful if they were being chased by Death Eaters, and it would be something they wouldn't expect.

Finally, when Hermione found that her eyelids were becoming too heavy, and that she was yawning more and more frequently, she marked her page in her book, set it on the bedside table, and shifted in her bed, so she could lay down, falling into a much needed sleep.

* * *

The next few days passed slowly, and by the time she was allowed out again, Hermione didn't want to see another healer again in her life. If anything was a deterrent to being careless, sitting in a hospital bored out of you mind was definitely it. She was so pleased that she didn't mind Mrs Weasley constantly fussing over her while they were at The Burrow; the healers had given strict orders that Hermione was to remain in a safe area where she could get plenty of rest for the next three to four days. 

It was on her third day of rest that she was struck by an idea. She called Harry and Ron in from the garden, which they'd been de-gnoming, and they entered the kitchen, kicking off their muddy shoes before joining Hermione at the kitchen table. "Didn't you say that Dumbledore wore the ring?"

"Uh...yeah," Harry answered, slightly taken aback at her remembering every single piece of information he had ever told her, however inconsequential it may have seemed at the time.

"And he wore it on the hand that was, you know," Ron made his hand into a crippled, claw-like shape to demonstrate, "well, yes," Hermione agreed, although she didn't quite agree with the way Ron had decided to illustrate her point.

"Yeah," Harry answered simply, not seeing what Hermione was trying to get at.

"What if he had to put the ring on to destroy it? And in doing so, had to destroy part of himself? I mean, on anyone else it would have meant they'd had to kill themselves completely, but Dumbledore how to kill _just_ his hand. What d'you think?"

"It's possible," Harry mused, looking around the kitchen as though he was quite sure an answer would jump out at him. "But he said his reactions weren't as quick as they were, and that _Snape_ stopped it before it spread further. Sounds more like a curse to me," he ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, making it messier still and sighed. "Maybe you have to activate the curse to destroy the horcrux?"

"Exactly!" Hermione exclaimed, "Voldemort wanted to make sure that whoever did manage to find, and destroy one of his horcruxes, wouldn't live to tell the tale, or tell anyone else of how he was staying alive. Like with the cave, and the poison that Dumbledore had to drink. Anyone who does manage to guess correctly wouldn't be able to continue with it."

"Yeah, but what about the diary, that didn't have any protection spells on it or anything."

"The diary was different though, Harry," Hermione reasoned. "He _wanted_ people to find the diary. Find it, write in it, do his bidding and kill all the muggleborns in the process. And when one has one's soul in seven parts, one can afford to be a little frivolous with the security surrounding one of them, especially if it opens the chamber of secrets." Harry said nothing, just pondered what Hermione had suggested whilst Ron flicked a biscuit crumb around the table absentmindedly. "We could always try," Hermione said quietly.

"What, and possibly die in the process? No thanks Hermione. We've already had enough health risks this week."

"I'm not talking about us being the ones to die. I'm talking about using a Death Eater, kidnapping one next time we run into them." Ron looked up now, the biscuit crumb lying forgotten next to a glass of water he'd been drinking earlier that day.

"I suppose it's worth a try. If we kill a Death Eater it's no big deal, is it?"

"Well, killing someone _is_ a big deal, Harry, but if I'm perfectly honest then I'd much rather it be one of them than one of us."

"You're right, of course," Harry said after a minute or so of silence, "as per usual." There was a smile in his tone now, and he looked up at her, the edges of his mouth curling ever so slightly upwards. Ron had taken to flicking the biscuit crumb around the table once more, arranging some makeshift goal posts out of the salt and pepper pots. He cheered silently when he scored a goal. He had learned a little about football from Harry, who finally decided to explain the concept of the game to him after he'd prodded Dean's West Ham poster one too many times during their last year at Hogwarts.

Mrs Weasley came bustling in soon after and began to make dinner. Harry and Ron were promptly told to finish de-gnoming the garden and Hermione was fussed over, which only earned her a scowl from Ron as he pulled on his muddy shoes and ventured back into the pest infested garden.

* * *

Godric's Hollow was the same as it had been when Hermione had left it. There were a few small differences, such as all her books were placed untidily on the coffee table, no doubt from when Ron and Harry had been going through them, trying to find out what Hermione had been cursed with, and there were several half-drunk cups of tea on various surfaces throughout the room. Hermione, being Hermione, immediately picked up her books and stacked them neatly on the bookshelf, before waving her wand, sending all the half empty cups to the sink, where water began to gush from the tap, the cups being washed as though an invisible person was standing there with a dish cloth and a mission which involved sparkling cups. 

Hermione settled herself onto the sofa and flicked on the television, the peace and quiet that came with Ron and Harry's absence, (they'd decided to go to the village shop before returning to Godric's Hollow) soon disappearing as a newsreader came into view on the television, looking serious.

"Nobody knows what caused the tsunami, and scientists are said to have been baffled. Latest figures show that the death toll is well into the hundreds, and hundreds are still missing. There is no record of a tsunami having hit the east coast of Scotland before, and experts are trying to work out what exactly caused this phenomenon. The damage is extremely severe, with at least one hundred thousand homes needing repair. A quarter of a million people have been evacuated, in case of a repeat, and most have been moved further in land. If you are worried about friends or family, please call the number that is on screen now.

"In other news, the Prime Minister has been challenged once again in Parliament, with the opposition demanding that he stand down, due to recent events. We now go live to Christian Tyler..." Hermione turned the television off. She hadn't had much luck so far with the television; it seemed whenever she turned it on, somebody had died and it was obviously connected to Voldemort. But this time was different. He hadn't just sent out a couple of Death Eaters to kill a few people, he'd caused a tsunami. He'd taken hundreds of people's lives in the split second it took for a wave to crash. No warning. No protection. No escape. Hermione suddenly felt angry. Why hadn't Malfoy told her about this? How could he just let hundreds of people's lives be taken? If he was so keen to help, why hadn't he alerted Hermione to the oncoming disaster?

And what about Hogwarts? She had never been exactly sure where the school was, which she supposed was intentional. She knew, however, that it was in Scotland. She just hoped it was more western, and sufficiently out of harm's way. She looked up as the door opened, and Harry and Ron entered, depositing a couple of bags in the kitchen before coming into the lounge.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, noticing the look on Hermione's face.

"He made a tsunami," Hermione replied quietly. "Hundreds of people, gone, they reckon. And there's still hundreds of them missing..."

"A _tsunami_?" Harry asked, sitting down next to Hermione, who nodded faintly.

"But how can he _do_ that?" Ron demanded, not quite believing that it was possible to wipe out towns and villages in a matter of seconds, with just a wave of a wand. "I mean, we're not just talking about shifting a wave, we're talking about a _tsunami_. A _massive_ wave."

"Yes we're quite aware of the definition of a tsunami, thank you very much," Hermione snapped. Ron looked at her, obviously feeling he had not deserved such a harsh reply and her face softened. "Sorry," she murmured. Ron shrugged and sat down next to Harry, who got up suddenly and began to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace.

"It doesn't matter _how_ he did it, Ron, it just matters that he did, and he'll probably do a lot more stuff like this unless we find the last horcrux, kill Nagini and then kill him. And destroy the locket and the cup while we're at it. So, we need ideas, because I can't just sit back and twiddle my thumbs while he's out doing _that_." He paused, glancing at the photo on the mantelpiece before resuming his pacing.

* * *

_G-_

_Do you honestly think I knew about it? The Dark Lord gets angry and fires off powerful spells. Nobody has any chance to warn anyone, I only found out when he came and told us after he'd done it. Don't start blaming me for something I couldn't prevent, I couldn't go up to him and ask him if he's planning anything massive, he's still angry with me about the Dumbledore situation. _

_Having said that, Cho Chang's next on the list, two days from now. We'll be talking about it in the Hog's Head tomorrow night. I suggest you all come along and bring some of those wretched ears with you, you know, the ones that the Weasel twins came up with. _

_Oh, and don't be a dolt, make sure you disguise yourself. _

_-M_

Hermione still wasn't satisfied with his reply to her earlier letter. Nevertheless, she got out a piece of parchment and quill, unscrewed her ink bottle and began to write, pausing every now and then to make sure Ron was still fast asleep in the arm chair, and Harry was still snoring lightly on the sofa.

_M-_

_Don't call them the 'Weasel' Twins; you weren't too sore about their 'wretched' products when you bought their Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. _

_-G_

_p.s. After the fiasco with Ron and the mead, please don't be offended if I don't accept any drinks from you._

She watched as the owl's silhouette grew smaller and smaller against the light of the moon. She wasn't expecting a reply, he probably hadn't been expecting one either, but, she supposed, the only thing she'd really said was defending Fred and George, so it wasn't even much of a reply. She replaced the lid of her ink bottle, careful not spill any of it, rolled up her remaining parchment, and put it in her bag, together with her quill and ink bottle. She twisted in her sleeping bag so that she was lying on her back and stared up at the ceiling, the faint cracks becoming blurry as she drifted into sleep.

* * *

"How about we go to Hogsmeade today?" Hermione asked, offering Harry and Ron a cup of tea each as they groaned, which seemed to be part of their waking up process. Ron yawned and took the cup from Hermione, his empty hand reaching up to ruffle his hair. Harry sat up and scratched his chest lightly, also reaching out for the warm drink, taking a sip before placing his cup on the coffee table. 

"What d'you think we'll find in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, stifling a yawn and getting out of his sleeping bag. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know, but we won't find much anywhere if we don't look. Besides, Hogsmeade will probably be a fairly calm visit, which is for the best, as I'm still _supposed_ to be resting."

"We might as well," Ron agreed, "and I haven't had Butterbeer in _ages_, we can go in the Three Broomsticks later. D'you reckon Voldemort hid anything in the Shrieking Shack?"

"No, the Shrieking Shack wasn't built until Lupin went to Hogwarts, and that was way after Voldemort. I doubt he'd go back there either; he's probably hidden it somewhere almost unreachable. Like that cave was. We had to _swim_ to get there." He said this as though the idea of swimming was completely unfathomable. But, Hermione thought, to be fair, Voldemort didn't exactly seem like the swimming type, although he probably knew another way of getting in. Voldemort didn't actually seem to be the sort to do anything, except torture people and murder them. Hermione couldn't believe that he most likely slept, ate, read, and obviously, sat at a table planning his next attacks, but he would have to. Although he wasn't human, they were all things that his human form would have to do, no matter what reputation he had to protect.

It was nearing midday by the time they set off, each of them disappearing from Godric's Hollow with a loud _crack_, and reappearing almost instantly in Hogsmeade.

The three of them walked along the high street, discussing Hermione's earlier idea of using a Death Eater to destroy the Horcrux. "With the potion," Harry began, "You couldn't touch it unless you had a goblet and you were going to drink it," he looked at Ron and Hermione and when neither of them spoke he continued, "So d'you think it's worth pouring some wine in the cup and seeing if we can get the Death Eater to drink it? That might, you know, _transfer_ him into something more human...and destroyable."

"I suppose it's possible," Hermione replied. In truth she hadn't considered the cup, because of the obvious barrier that rendered them unable to do anything with it. "And quite typical of Voldemort. He wouldn't think anyone would be able to use a Death Eater, because they're all either with him, or with the Ministry, who have no idea about anything they're doing, let alone how Voldemort's stayed alive all these years. It might be suspicious, but he might just think the Ministry have whoever we choose, and the Ministry might think that he managed to apparate back to Voldemort."

"Nobody'd think we've got any use for one," Ron said, "So they'll just assume that someone else has him. And, if we take one of the lesser known ones, nobody'll remember him anyway. Voldemort might think he's run away, if he finds out that the Ministry _don't_ actually have him, so he won't be too upset if he finds him dead, somewhere." Harry and Hermione agreed with Ron, and they continued down the high street, popping in and out of the shops where the owners had decided to brave the war and stay open.

By the time Ron had complained loudly for the fifth time, Hermione allowed herself to be escorted from the bookshop, surprised to find that darkness had rapidly begun to descend. "See, we _were_ in there all afternoon, Hermione," Ron told her. Hermione pursed her lips but said nothing.

"I'm hungry," Harry said finally, breaking the silence that had formed since Ron last spoke. "C'mon, let's go to the Three Broomsticks."

When they arrived, however, they found themselves disappointed. There was an official looking notice with the Ministry logo in the corner of it, nailed to the door, which was locked shut, with no lights on inside the pub.

_The Ministry of Magic has declared this establishment closed, due to the fact that its owner, one Madame Rosmerta, has been taken in for questioning following the events that occurred in Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during the month of June. _

_Apologies for any inconvenience caused._

"They've taken Rosmerta in?" Ron asked, disbelief and maybe just a touch of anger in his voice.

"I told them!" Harry growled, "I told McGonagall that she was under the Imperius. That was weeks ago!It's been over a month! How can they still be holding her?"

"Well it's another Stan Shunpike, isn't it?" Ron told him, "except this time there is _some_ reason to hold her."

"And you told McGonagall, Harry, and although she probably informed the Ministry, she doesn't have the same influence that Dumbledore had, and even Dumbledore couldn't get Stan released."

"I bet Lucius Malfoy wasn't held this long, last time around. I bet he slipped them a bit of gold and went about his merry way," Ron said bitterly, scowling at the notice. "It's not like Rosmerta even did anything _that_ terrible," Hermione frowned at Ron's defence of his favourite bar maid.

"Oh and almost killing you and Katie wasn't _that_ terrible, was it?" Hermione asked, and Ron finally looked away from the sign.

"Well...nothing really came of it, did it?"

"How about we go to the Hog's Head?" Harry half yelled before Hermione could lecture Ron on how the fact that Katie had ended up spending months in St Mungo's, and how Ron would have been dead for certain, had Harry not shoved the bezoar down his throat, was most certainly not 'nothing'.

"Do we have to?" Ron asked, "I don't really fancy their Butterbeer. Probably about fifty years out of date..."

"Yes, we do," Hermione told him, her disapproval still evident on her face. "And you'll drink your Butterbeer politely, without complaint."

Ron seemed to have taken note, because he didn't grimace at the dusty bottles they were presented with as Harry dug into his money back to retrieve six silver sickles, before handing them to the barman, who, despite his curt manner the last (and only) time they had been in there, gave him the faintest of smiles. Harry returned the smile and picked up his bottle, before going over to the table in the corner that Ron and Hermione were sitting at, wiping their bottles with their sleeves before opening them. "Who d'you think he is?" Harry asked finally, nodding to the barman, who was currently serving three scruffy looking wizards who each had a couple of teeth missing.

"The barman," Ron told him, as though it were obvious.

"He _does_ look familiar," Hermione answered Harry, ignoring Ron's comment. "And he was at the funeral..."

"Looks like a younger Dumbledore to me...except Dumbledore was probably a bit cleaner...and didn't smell like goats. Remind me why people come here?" Harry and Hermione turned to look at Ron, who was looking at his bottle, trying to decide whether the black marks around the neck of it were dirt or something else. "What?" Ron asked, finally looking up at his two friends.

"He's Dumbledore's brother," Harry whispered, glancing over to him, before turning his attention back to Ron. "He always said he had contacts here, and who better to have as a contact than the bloke who owns it? And he wouldn't _lie_ to him, because, well, it's his own brother, he wouldn't."

"Doesn't seem to have done as well for himself as Dumbledore did," Ron commented, wrinkling his nose as he looked down at the floor, which looked like it hadn't been scourgified in decades.

"Well maybe he _wanted_ to be a barman, Ron. And besides, Dumbledore could have been Minister for Magic a hundred times over, but he stayed at Hogwarts. Perhaps it's a family trait, being happy with the jobs that aren't all about power and money."

"Yeah but everyone knew Dumbledore anyway, he had _loads _of influence at the Ministry, so I don't see how-"

"Yes but Dumbledore defeated Grindelward, so that was bound to have got him a bit more-" she stopped, her attention having caught sight of white-blonde hair outside the grimy window. There were several of them, all with dark robes billowing about them in the breeze. Thinking quickly, Hermione rapped both Harry and Ron on the head with her wand, followed by herself, and they appeared to melt into the surroundings. She shivered at the feeling that was reminiscent of an egg being cracked over her head, but soon forgot it as the door of the inn opened and seven men walked in, going up to the bar and ordering their drinks. "Don't move too much and don't speak," Hermione muttered. Neither Harry nor Ron replied, so she took this as understanding.

She was glad they were sitting in the corner, because they were fairly well hidden by a screen near their table. Hermione saw something peach-coloured and long appear in Harry's lap, and he muttered a spell, the extendable ears appearing to melt into the surroundings just as they themselves had.

"Who is it tomorrow, then?" a deep voice asked.

"Honestly, Crabbe, don't you listen? The Dark Lord said a thousand times that it would be Jin Chang's house. There's a wife and daughter there as well. They shouldn't be too much of a problem. Neither should he, for that matter." Hermione felt Harry stiffen next to her at the sound of Malfoy's drawl, which was half whispered, due to the nature of their conversation.

"You watch how you talk to me, boy, I'll tell your father-"

"You'll tell my father _what_, Crabbe? That I spoke down to an idiot such as yourself? Merlin only knows why the Dark Lord puts up with you and your stupidity, but apparently he gets _some_ use of you, most likely very limited, and explained using words which have less than two syllables in them."

"Draco," a softer voice whispered, "Leave such anger for tomorrow evening. You may take out any frustrations you have on the girl. The Dark Lord believes you have earned her, despite, what happened at Hogwarts. I believe his exact words were, 'while the boy undoubtedly failed in his mission to get rid of Dumbledore, he still did well to find a way to get people in to Hogwarts, _and_ he disarmed the old fool, leaving him defenceless for when Severus turned up.' So you see, my dear nephew, the Dark Lord can be very generous."

"Enough, Rodolphus. It is unwise to talk about such things when there are people around."

"Very well, Julius. And what do you propose the next conversation topic should be?"

Hermione began to wind her extendable ear back in, careful not to move too much, in case she was seen. Ron and Harry also pulled their ears in. Hermione wasn't sure, but she thought Malfoy's eye caught her own, just for a second. Nobody seemed to notice though, because they were paying more attention to Julius, who was apparently talking about something much more interesting.

When they arrived back at Godric's Hollow, Hermione saw that an owl was waiting with her copy of the _Evening Prophet_. Hermione put two knuts into its leather pouch and it took off, leaving the newspaper on the sofa. The front page was almost entirely taken up by the tsunami story, which they would most likely read and discuss later. She noted that it was written by Rita Skeeter, so they would probably end up scoffing at any ridiculous rumours she had printed. Hermione didn't even want to think about how far Rita would have gone, had it not been for Hermione's ever lingering threat. She possibly would have stretched herself to: "_Muggle Pope is second in command for You-Know-Who_." A piece of parchment fell out of the paper when she picked it up and Hermione caught it.

* * *


	9. Chapter Eight: An Unpleasant Experiment

**A/N:** This chapter's been a long time coming, partly because I fell in love with Doctor Who all over again, partly because I really didn't feel up to writing this, and partly because any HP stuff I _did_ feel like writing revolved entirely around Tom Riddle. Anyway, I knocked out most of this chapter today, I don't know whether that's a good thing or not, but either way, it's here for your enjoyment. The next chapter has a chunk of it already written, so that will make it easier to write the whole thing, and the plan for that chapter is less vague than the plan for this one was, too. The Dramione stuff will come, next chapter gets the ball rolling between them, just a tiny little bit. Anyway, read, review, and enjoy.

* * *

**By Any Other Name.**

**by Flaignhan.

* * *

**

Chapter Eight: An Unpleasant Experiment.

How had he known? Had her charm been faulty? No...not likely, her charms were always fine, as arrogant as it sounded. Plus, none of the other Death Eaters had noticed. Perhaps if you really concentrated, you'd be able to see the person, as long as you knew they were there. Hermione vanished the parchment just as Ron walked into the room, taking the newspaper from her lap and sitting down heavily next to her, flicking through it while they waited for Harry to join them, accompanied by cups of tea.

Hermione took hers and breathed in the scent deeply, closing her eyes in bliss for a few seconds. She took a cautious, temperature-testing sip, and set it down on the coffee table, having decided it was too hot to drink. They hadn't said anything about what they had heard. They left the pub in silence, a while after the Death Eaters had departed, and returned to Godric's Hollow, Harry going into the kitchen to make some tea, Ron disappearing to the bathroom, and Hermione sitting down with the newspaper and the note, tucked between the pages.

That worried her slightly. Sending owls was fine, but that piece of parchment must have been put there by a person, and if he let slip where they were, or told Voldemort, or even if Voldemort managed to get it out of him by torture, or legilimency – but then she realised: _The Evening Prophet_ was still being held in a death grip by the delivery owl when they arrived home, and the only way to get a _Prophet_ delivery owl to release its goods was to pay it its two knuts. Malfoy must have put the note in there by magical means, which was not impossible at all. She felt herself relax a little when she realised this, feeling a lot more comfortable in the knowledge that Malfoy didn't know where they were living for most of the time.

"I'm hungry," Ron complained, once the tea had been drunk and the newspaper was yielding no more articles of interest. He'd even stopped picking the most amusing bits out of the Agony Aunt page, ("I don't know how, but I ended up in bed with another wizard and realised that after forty-two years of marriage, my husband has not once managed to leave me satisfied, what should I do?"). When neither Harry nor Hermione answered his declaration of hunger, he said "Are we going to have dinner or what?"

"Why don't _you_ cook, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"Oh come off it, Hermione. You know I can't cook to save my life! Always had mum or a houself to do it-"

"Why don't I go and get us some food? From a muggle takeaway?" Harry interrupted before Ron could dig himself into an even deeper hole. Hermione and Ron agreed, and after much arguing about what sort of food they would get, they finally settled on Indian food, partly because Ron hadn't tried it before, but mostly because Harry and Hermione wanted to see his reaction when he tasted the spiciest dish that the chosen outlet had to offer. Hermione smirked at Harry before he disapparated and Ron got up and went into the kitchen to get some plates and cutlery.

Harry and Hermione found themselves entirely disappointed, however, when Ron swallowed his first mouthful and had nothing to say except "Blimey! That's a bit spicy!" and continued eating as though his tongue was made of steel, completely unaffected by the aromatic blend of flavours in his food. "We can get this again, I like it."

* * *

They spent the next day making plans for that night, when the Changs' house would be attacked. They had decided that they would capture a death eater, to test Hermione's theory about needing to 'activate' the horcrux by using it. "Ginny had to write in the diary for it to work, so we might be on the right track here."

That night, they waited silently, watching the Changs' house whilst covered in the invisibility cloak. The Death eaters didn't arrive until just after one o'clock, and the three of them quietly took the invisibility cloak off of themselves when the death Eaters began to move towards the front door. "Bit polite, using the front door," Ron commented, "I thought they'd prefer to blast the walls apart, or just apparate straight into the house."

"They're cowards, Ron," Hermione whispered as they jogged quietly along, keeping to the shadows as the Death Eaters moved closer and closer to the house. "They need to keep quiet so they don't wake up. They'd much rather kill someone in their sleep, there's less chance of them putting up a fight." With a nod from Harry, Stunning Spells were shot off and a few of the Death Eaters fell to the floor.

"It's Potter!" one of them shouted, a jet of green light issuing from his wand shortly after.

"The Dark Lord wants them alive!" Malfoy's voice said sharply.

"All of them?" the Death Eater replied, almost whining. He wasn't conscious to receive his answer though, as Harry had taken advantage of his distraction and Stunned him. Conversation immediately halted between the Death Eaters and the fight went into full swing, the night sky littered with jets of light, varying in colour, but mostly red. Hermione was duelling Rodolphus Lestrange when a jet of light hit her in the back and she fell to the ground, unconscious.

Her eyes fluttered open and the first thing that Hermione noticed was that Malfoy was nearby, duelling Harry. The second thing she noticed was that a wiry looking Death Eater was pointing his wand at Harry from behind, and Harry hadn't noticed, for he was intent upon beating Malfoy.

Hermione's hand shot to her pocket, trying to find her wand, but it wasn't there. She noticed it about fifteen feet away from her, lying near an unconscious Rodolphus Lestrange. By the time Hermione had got to her feet, Malfoy had shot a stunning spell over Harry's shoulder, causing the small Death Eater to collapse in a heap. Harry turned around, turning quickly back to Malfoy, gaping at him. "It was unintentional, Potter, I assure you," he sneered, and Hermione almost believed him. She picked her wand up off the floor as she ran to Ron's aid; he was struggling to keep up with two Death Eaters, and was fighting from the floor, having been knocked over by a spell just shot from the wand belonging to the taller of the two.

He groped around by his side with his spare hand, still firing off curses, hexes, jinxes, and whatever else came to mind, when he managed to grab hold of a fairly large rock. He threw right into the face of one of the Death Eaters, who doubled over in pain, clutching his face. Blood trickled out from the gaps between his fingers and he growled, reaching for his wand, which he had dropped when the stone had hit his face.

Hermione immediately stunned him and he dropped to the floor. Harry had just got rid of another Death Eater, which now just left the tall Death Eater who Ron was fighting, another who had moved on to Harry and Malfoy, who Hermione immediately took charge of, not wanting him to suffer the punishments that the other two had been thinking up since the night Dumbledore had died. He had saved her life, multiple times, actually, so it was only fair that she return the favour.

He smirked and shot a jelly-legs jinx at her, which she dodged just in time, feeling her legs wobble a little as she caught the tiniest bit of it. She shot a hiccoughing hex back at him and her aim was true, resulting in him hiccupping loudly, much to Hermione's amusement – although not so much to his own. After a few more harmless jinxes were thrown back and forth, he gave her a meaningful look and she stunned him.

Neither Harry nor Ron noticed he didn't put up a fight, and promptly disposed of their own Death Eaters, with two well aimed jets of light.

There was no denying it: the Changs' front garden had looked a right sight better when they first arrived, but Hermione felt it was a fair exchange, a few ruined plants and some misplaced turf for their lives. Plus, it was nowhere near as bad as the Patils' house had been – doors swinging off hinges, smashed cabinets, the hole in the wall...yes, she decided, the Changs' had got the better end of the stick when it came to domestic battlefields.

"Oh my goodness, Harry!" Cho threw herself into Harry's arms, hugging him tightly. Harry, eyes wide, patted her awkwardly on the back while Ron scratched the back of his head, looking towards the sky and grinning at his friend's embarrassment. "You were so _brave_," Cho told him. "Oh how can I _ever_ thank you?"

"Er – don't worry about it, Cho," Harry replied uncomfortably, detaching himself from her and moving backwards to what he felt was a safe distance, without being too rude. "Honestly, it's nothing, no problem."

Cho seemed to compose herself in the few seconds' silence that followed and Hermione noticed Cho's parents peering out from the doorway She sent them an awkward smile as they surveyed the unconscious bodies that littered their lawn. "Hi Ron, Hermione," Cho said, and Ron chuckled slightly at the casual greeting.

"We need one of this lot," Ron said finally.

"Malfoy," said Harry harshly.

"No!" Hermione protested quickly. Ron and Harry turned to look at her, rather shocked at her sudden defence of him. "His father will kick up a fuss if he goes missing, and it'll be obvious that you've got something to do with it, Harry. How about him?" Hermione pointed to a man she didn't recognise. "They'll think he chickened out, ran away or something. And that's even if they notice, I doubt he's important."

"It's scary, how much thought you put into who we're going to kill," Harry mumbled. Hermione turned to look at him, her eyes a little bright.

"It's a war, Harry. We've got to fight," she said gently.

"Yeah." They fell silent for a moment then Harry spoke again. "_Incarcerous_," he said, pointing his wand at the Death Eater.

"What are you going to do to him?" Cho asked, watching as Ron heaved the Death Eater up so he would be able to apparate with him.

"We're going to take him to The Riddle House," Hermione answered. Cho didn't ask any more questions, despite the seemingly cryptic (yet truthful) answer.

"Well...thanks again," Cho said quietly. "I'd better go and see if Mum and Dad are all right." The three of them nodded.

"Alert the Ministry, quick as you can," Harry told her. "Don't tell them about this," he gestured towards the unconscious Death Eater who was being held up by Ron. Cho nodded and turned away, walking back towards her house. After a meaningful look at each other, the three of them turned on the spot and disapparated.

When they appeared at the foot of the hill on which The Riddle House had been built decades ago, Ron dropped the Death Eater, not wanting to be in contact with him for any longer than was absolutely necessary. A feeling of unease settled over Hermione, and she pulled her jacket more tightly around herself, trying to keep out the unnatural chill that had nothing to do with the breeze which was sweeping through the village. The sky was almost jet black, the lack of street lights and brightly lit buildings making it seem as though they were being suffocated by the darkness. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky, but even they seemed too tired to shine brightly.

"You can tell, can't you," Hermione began, her wand clutched tightly in her hand, "you can tell he's connected to this place, can't you?" Harry watched her for a moment but said nothing. Eventually, after what seemed like an age (but was most likely only a minute or so) he turned away and began striding up the hill, Ron following on with the unconscious Death Eater levitating at his side. Hermione broke into a gentle jog to catch up with the pair of them, her much shorter legs not helping her at all.

When they reached the back door, Harry pushed it open, the rusty hinges causing it to creak loudly, making Hermione jump. The traces of their footsteps from the last time they'd been there were still visible, although they were now covered by a thin sheet of dust. They all let out a quiet sigh of relief when they noticed that there were no fresh footsteps, and they looked at each other before they went inside and began to climb the stairs, which seemed to be on the verge of giving way each time they climbed a step. Hermione decided it was lucky that they were all rather slim, because had they been any heavier, she was sure they would have fallen through the stairs.

The cup was still sitting on the mantelpiece as innocently as it had been on the day they had discovered it. Hermione's eyes watered at the smell that she knew was coming from the cupboard which was next door to this room. The knowledge of the smell's origin made her gut lurch unpleasantly and she felt stomach acid begin to rise in her throat. "Let's get it over and done with, shall we?" Hermione said in a tight voice, trying to avoid breathing in the foul smelling air. Harry nodded and pointed his wand at the Death Eater, who was hovering by Ron's side, still unconscious. The ropes fell away from him and after Harry muttered another spell, the Death Eater opened his eyes, groaning slightly. Ron released the charm that was responsible for the Death Eater being in mid air and he fell to the floor with a grunt.

"What do you want with me?" he growled.

"What's your name?" Harry asked. Hermione looked at him, frowning slightly at the odd question.

"Acerpod," he answered. "Cyrus Acerpod."

"I'm sorry, Cyrus," and the Death Eater frowned at Harry's genuine apology. Hermione jabbed her wand at the cup and red wine burst from her wand tip, flying neatly into Hufflepuff's cup. Hermione moved over to the mantle, and wasn't surprised to find that she could now pick the cup up. She handed it to Acerpod.

"Drink," she said gently.

"What is it?" he demanded.

"Wine. Drink up, you've had a hard evening." He lifted the cup to his lips, a sniffed the contents. He glared at the three of them suspiciously before he began to drink deeply, letting out a sigh once he had consumed all that the cup had to offer.

Suddenly, he froze, his eyes wide, the cup falling from his hands with a clatter and Hermione knew it had worked. She didn't need to look at his eyes, which had now turned red, or the distinctive snake-like appearance that his features now possessed. The dull clatter of the cup told her all she needed to know. Hermione stepped away from Acerpod and closed her eyes, knowing what was coming.

Harry said the words in a broken sort of voice, as though it were doing as much damage to him to cast the spell as it did to Acerpod. She had never heard the words said so resignedly, without anger, without hate. She had never heard them said with so much regret, but that was how they came out of Harry's mouth. There was a violent hiss, shortly followed by a dull thud, and Hermione opened her eyes, fixing her gaze on Ron, determined not to look at the slumped, lifeless body at her feet. Ron was looking at the ceiling, his eyes darting about nervously, also trying to avoid the sight that lay before him.

Harry, on the other hand, was looking at the body, his face blank, no hint of emotion behind his green eyes, which seemed to be a little less vibrant now. Hermione wondered whether it was the events of the last ten minutes that had caused it, or whether she had only just noticed that the colour of his eyes, like the colour of so many things these days was dull and drained. He tore his eyes away from the body and left the room without a word, Ron and Hermione following him, glad to be able to escape from the room.

The foul smell seemed to have become even fouler since they had stepped inside the house a short while ago.

The three of them disapparated without a word, leaving the cold damp air behind them, and reappearing in the cosy lounge of Godric's Hollow. Harry disappeared into the bedroom without so much as a glance at the other two, and Hermione stood for a moment, looking at the closed door, wondering whether she should go in and say something to him. Ron pushed a squashy sleeping bag into her hands and she looked up at him, smiled half heartedly, then put the sleeping bag on the arm chair where she would be sleeping.

When she returned later, having changed into her pyjamas, she found that Ron was snoring loudly on the sofa, his large feet poking out from underneath the opened out sleeping bag. Hermione checked all the doors were locked and then decided to check on Harry. She opened the bedroom door quietly and saw that he was lying on the bed, wrapped up in the duvet, his arms clenched around a pillow, seeking some comfort in the soft material of the pillowcase. Harry's breathing was a little too erratic for Hermione to believe that he was asleep, but she didn't mention this. She whispered a soft 'good night' to him and closed the door quietly, trying to think of pleasant things as she climbed into her sleeping bag.

No matter how much she thought of happier times, no matter how many chapters of _The Standard Book of Spells Grade Seven_ that she tried to recite in her head as she twisted about in the armchair, trying to make herself comfortable, Hermione's sleep that night was fitful, and she dreamed of rotting corpses shoved into cupboards, of a man who was served his last drink by her, and of Harry, poor, broken Harry, whose soul had now been torn in two.

* * *

The next few days passed slowly, Harry remaining silent except for when he was spoken to, and only then giving one word answers. Hermione could see the guilt swimming behind his eyes and had had plenty of conversations with Ron at the kitchen table while Harry flicked through the television channels, not really interested in _Changing Rooms_, but desperate for something mundane and inconsequential to drown out the silence.

"I'm worried about him," Hermione said as she made some sandwiches, Ron pouring milk into the three mugs that were set on the counter while he waited for the tea to brew. "What can we do? It can't go on like this, and I don't know if he'll be able to do it again, even if it's him or them. He's been too affected by it."

"I suppose..." Ron began as he spooned sugar into each of the mugs, "I suppose the first one's always the toughest. Like funerals, you know. You don't know how to deal with it, so you just...well." He glanced towards the door that led through to the lounge which was closed, the muffled sounds of the television filtering through the gap underneath.

Hermione sighed as she cut each of the sandwiches in half, at a complete loss on how she should deal with Harry. She couldn't let him continue like he was, letting his brains rot in front of the television, barely saying a word, turning over the events in his mind, torturing himself for what he did. He was sliding down the slippery slope to self destruction, and Hermione knew that if he slid much further, she and Ron wouldn't be able to pick up the pieces.

She gave him his sandwich and Ron set a cup of tea down on the table. Harry mumbled a 'thanks' without even blinking. Hermione sat down next to him and switched the television off with the remote control. It took him a few moments to realise, and he blinked rapidly, as though the sudden loss of light was making his eyes hurt. "Harry..." Hermione started, not knowing how to continue. He didn't show any indication that he had heard her, and just picked up his sandwich, biting into it, clearly not noting the taste of it.

"I'll be all right," he said after a while. "Just give me a little while." Hermione gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze and the corners of his lips turned slightly upwards in a sad smile.

"Just as long as you are," Hermione told him. Ron nodded in agreement.

* * *

They had respected Harry's wishes and given him time. Over the course of the following days, he began to talk more freely and he even cracked a smile or two. Nothing was said about the events that had taken place at The Riddle House, and the three of them soon began to talk about what their next plans were.

"Well I think we should go back home for a day or two, get a few good meals in, you know," Ron suggested when they had no ideas about where their hunt for the horcruxes would take them next. "Mum'll be glad to see us, and you know, it'll be nice to be around everyone again."

"I think that's a good idea," Hermione said, knowing that seeing Ginny would probably raise Harry's spirits, and she wasn't going to say no to some sleep in a proper bed, even if just for one night.

"But we've already wasted about a week," Harry protested. "And Voldemort's been too quiet, we can't just go back to The Burrow and spend even more time doing nothing."

"Mate, we need to take it easy, we've been in so many duels the last couple of weeks, Hermione's been ill, and it's all happened in such a rush. A day or two won't hurt, will it?" Harry looked between the two of them and sighed when he saw that he wasn't going to win.

"All right," he agreed. A small smile formed on his face, "It's been too long since I've had treacle tart."

Hermione grinned broadly.

* * *

They apparated into a small woody area about a mile or so from The Burrow and chatted happily as they strolled along the dirt track, the sight of the crooked house in which the Weasleys lived bringing a smile to each of their faces as it came into view.

The chickens clucked as they stalked around the front garden, and Hermione noticed some gnomes creeping through the fence, hiding amongst the wild and overgrown plants, which were bursting with fragrance, even if, like everything else in the world, they looked tired and dull.

There was a shriek and Mrs Weasley came bustling out of the front door, looking as worried as ever. The force of her yell nearly knocked them over.

"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Do you have any idea what the date is, or have you lost all sense of time?" The three of them looked blankly at each other, completely clueless as to what Mrs Weasley was talking about. "Harry's birthday!" she exclaimed, "Oh how could you forget? It was yesterday!"

"Mum, we've been -"

"Busy, yes, yes, I know, but it's not every day that a wizard comes of age! Not that you'd really think about it, doing underage magic left right and centre!" For a moment, Hermione thought that they were going to get a telling off for allowing Harry to do magic before he was seventeen, but Mrs Weasley pulled each of them into a hug, squeezing them tightly as though they'd been gone for months. "Come on, I was just about to start cooking breakfast – oh _Ron_, when did you last give that shirt a wash? Look how grubby it is!"

They were all sitting around the kitchen table twenty minutes later, enjoying a fabulously cooked breakfast. "Mum, I swear, I have missed you so much since we've been away," Ron said as he cut up his sausages.

"That's all part of being a grown-up, Ronniekins," Fred said. "You realise how underappreciated your own mother is. Especially when all that's keeping you going is beans on toast." Mrs Weasley rolled her eyes and looked up as an owl swept in through the window, a newspaper held tightly in its claws. Mr Weasley dug into his pocket a pulled out two knuts, dropping them into the leather pouch. The owl dropped the newspaper onto the table, almost sending the orange juice flying.

Mr Weasley spread out the newspaper and his face paled as he read the headline.

"What is it, dad?" George asked, craning his neck to see what had caused his father to react in such a way. George dropped his fork with a clatter.

"What's happened?" Harry asked worriedly, "What is it?" When Mr Weasley responded, his voice was barely above a shocked whisper.

"He's destroyed Canary Wharf. It's completely gone."

He turned the newspaper around so they could see the picture. Where there had once been a huge tower, a major London landmark, there was now just a hole in the ground.

* * *


	10. Chapter Nine: A Subdued Party

**A/N: **I'm sorry this has taken long. I've discovered part of the story on my memory stick, so I'm going to re-piece it from what I've got. I've also got back from a writer's retreat and am all geared up for writing so hopefully I'll have the story finished by Christmas. There are some huge chunks which have already been written, and things are gonna start to happen between Draco and Hermione quite soon. Thanks for your patience, now read, review, and enjoy!

* * *

**By Any Other Name.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Chapter Nine: A Subdued Party.

Everyone sat there in silence.

Finally, Mr Weasley spoke. "The muggles think it was terrorists. Four thousand people, gone, with the wave of a wand."

Hermione looked over at Harry, whose fists were clenched tightly, making the white scars on the back of his hands_ (__I must not tell lies_) stand out against the rest of his hand. She knew how desperate he was to get at Voldemort, but he would have to be patient. Harry was always having to be patient. Always having to wait for something. Hermione wanted to say something to him, but anything that entered her head sounded false and pathetic.

Harry stood up abruptly and stormed out into the garden. Hermione glanced over at Ron, who was pushing his bacon around his plate, clearly having lost his appetite. Hermione pulled her mug of tea towards her, wanting the comfort that came with holding a mug of tea. She didn't want to drink it; her stomach didn't feel up to it.

Four thousand people…that was about four or five times the size of Hogwarts.

She felt pained as she thought of Hogwarts, missing terribly the simplicity of life. Well, she supposed Hogwarts life had never been _that_ simple. There was always imminent death when you were best friends with Harry Potter, but even so, she wished she had a Transfiguration essay to take her mind off of things. She wished she could disappear into the sanctuary of the Hogwarts library, where nothing could hurt her and noise was frowned upon. She even wouldn't say no to a Potions lesson with Professor Slughorn, even if Harry was beating her by using that stupid book of Snape's. It was the first of August, she had only spent half a summer away from the school and she was already missing it desperately.

Ron kicked her under the table and she looked up. He nodded outside, and, getting the message, Hermione got up as he did and followed him out into the garden.

At first, Hermione thought that Harry was spinning around in a circle for no reason whatsoever. He looked like a child who had run out of games to play, but when she saw the gnome fly out of his grip and land fifty feet away, she realised that he was actually de-gnoming the garden. Clearly, like her, Harry wanted to take his mind off of the day's news with hard work. He grabbed another gnome by the ankle who protested loudly, and began to swing in a wide circle once more.

Finally, it seemed Harry had run out of gnomes, and he acknowledged Ron and Hermione's presence for the first time. He collapsed down onto the grass, knees bent with his arms wrapped loosely around them.

"It's not fair," he said at last. It was a childish thing to say, but it summed up how Hermione felt. Harry pulled some grass out of the ground, raised it to shoulder height, then opened his hand and watched it flutter to the ground. He looked up at Hermione, and she could tell by the empty look in his eyes that he needed her to say something, anything. He was desperate for optimism and but she didn't feel that she could really provide anything.

Ron stepped in. "Mum's going to make you a birthday cake."

Both Harry and Hermione turned to look at him. Four thousand people had lost their lives in the last twenty four hours, and Ron was thinking about food. But, Hermione supposed, that was nothing new. Ron was _always_ thinking about his stomach.

"It's shaped like a Quidditch pitch and everything."

Harry broke into a smile and chuckled softly as he let his forehead rest on his knees.

* * *

It was a slightly subdued party that sat out in the garden that evening. Mrs Weasley had created an almighty buffet and had invited members of the Order to join them for a small belated celebration for Harry's birthday.

A loud bang interrupted the meal and everybody turned around. There was smoke coming from behind a hill about half a mile away. Mr Weasley stood up.

"That's the Lovegood's…"

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood up, wands grasped firmly in their hands and turned on the spot, disappearing and reappearing in front of a large cylindrical house which had a huge great chunk missing from the side of it.

Hermione looked around and saw several other people apparating around them: Kingsley, Bill, Fred, George, Mr Weasley, Lupin and Tonks.

Kingsley and Tonks were the first to run into the house, and the others followed. While several of them tackled the Death Eaters on the first floor, Hermione could see no sign of Luna, and so dashed up the spiralling staircase, wand at the ready, ducking and diving as curses flew all around her.

She noticed Antonin Dolohov straight away. He was shooting spells at Luna who was struggling to defend herself.

"Stupefy!" Hermione yelled.

Dolohov turned around and blocked the curse with a wave of his wand. He stared at Hermione as a nasty grin formed on his face. "Well well, if it isn't the Mudblood."

"Don't call her that!"

Dolohov turned back to Luna and lazily shot the Cruciatus curse at her.

Luna screamed and Hermione reacted instinctively, throwing hexes and jinxes at Dolohov as fast as she could. He was managing to block most of them but Hermione could see the beads of sweat trickling down his temples and could tell that he was losing stamina quickly.

Several more hexes were exchanged and blocked, and Hermione heard footsteps running up the staircase. Was it Death Eater or Order member? She could feel the ground shaking beneath her feet from the ordeal that was going on below her and made a quick decision.

"Sectumsempra!" she cried.

Dolohov tried to block it but his attempts were futile. A huge slash appeared across his stomach and he dropped to the ground, wand rolling away from him. The colour was draining from his face quickly and Hermione stared wide eyed at him, the fact that she had caused such an injury starting to sink in and horrify her.

"Hermione, look out!" Luna yelled in a broken voice, the Cruciatus leaving her severely weakened.

Hermione spun round just in time to see a jet of coloured light shoot towards her. She shrieked as it hit her and grabbed her sides, falling to her knees and writhing slightly. The tickling jinx was lifted as quickly as it had been cast and Hermione took a few deep breaths, looking up at Malfoy, who was standing by the staircase.

Dolohov's eye twitched slightly. Hermione's stomach plummeted as she realised that he must have worked out that the jinx had been completely harmless.

"What did you do to him?"

"Sectumsempra."

Draco paled, and Hermione knew that he was remembering the time when he had been on the receiving end of that particular curse.

"Hermione -"

"It's OK, Luna," Hermione assured her. She turned back to Malfoy. "Could have warned me."

"Didn't know. Meet me at the edge of the woods at half past twelve, all right?" Hermione nodded.

Draco was looking at Dolohov and Hermione let her gaze wander to him as well. Blood surrounded him. Deep, thick, red blood, filling the cracks in the floorboards, seeping into the tassel on the corner of a rug. Dolohov became quite still.

"Luna, you have to promise me that you won't say anything. Not to Harry, not to Ron, not to _anyone_. When they ask, say that Malfoy stunned me, OK?"

Luna frowned, as did Malfoy.

"I'm going to stun you?"

"Yes."

"No chance, Granger, you'll fight back and I'll be toast."

"Just do it, will you Malfoy?"

He raised his wand.

"No! Wait! Is everything all right downstairs?"

"Your lot are pummelling them."

Hermione nodded and he raised his wand again. The words seemed distant as he said them and brightly coloured spots burst before Hermione's eyes as she looked directly into the red jet of light which was approaching her.

* * *

"I'll kill that little Slytherin b-"

"Ron!"

"What I want to know is who killed Dolohov." A calm, slightly tired voice. A voice that she trusted. "That was dark magic, and if it had been Malfoy surely he'd have -"

"Malfoy's a coward. He wouldn't have cared, just as long as it wasn't him." A twin.

"It was the same curse I used on Malfoy last year. What did Luna say?"

"She said she was out of it, Dolohov used the Cruciatus on her and Hermione started duelling him. She remembered hearing Malfoy's voice, but nothing else."

There was a loud crack which jarred her head. "How was Xeno?"

"Shaken, but fine. No real casualties. We got there just in time he said. He's looking after Luna now." A deep, soothing voice. It made her want to fall back to sleep.

Hermione's eyes fluttered open.

"You all right?" A freckly face was leaning over the back of the sofa on which she was laying, eyes full of concern.

"Out of the way, George," Mrs Weasley bustled over and handed Hermione a cup of potion.

Hermione sat up and drank the potion slowly, looking around at each of the people in the room.

"Hermione," Lupin began in a gentle voice.

"I did it." She answered his unasked question and he nodded, just the once. "I was getting nowhere and he'd already used the Cruciatus on Luna and Malfoy was coming up the stairs. I didn't mean for him to die, I just meant to stop him." she wasn't sure whether she was trying to convince the others or herself. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked behind her to see Harry standing there.

"It's all right," he said. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've just been stupefied," she replied. "Is everyone OK?"

There was a general murmur that she took to mean that there were no serious injuries and felt relieved.

"Would you like some tea, dear?"

"Ooh, yes please."

"I'll have some tea, Mum."

"And me too, Mum."

Mrs Weasley sighed and disappeared into the kitchen, the clattering noise of the kettle being place on the hob audible even over the post-duel chatter that had begun.

* * *

Around about quarter past twelve, Hermione was sitting on a log at the end of the garden with a piece of birthday cake and a glass of pumpkin juice, a thick cardigan wrapped around her, tied loosely at the waist.

Harry sat down next to her and she looked over towards him, smiling tiredly.

"You OK?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "I was scared," she said after a moment's hesitation.

"I know."

"I'm going for a walk," she told him, and stood up. "Will you take this back into the kitchen for me?" She handed him the plate which her slice of cake had been on and her empty glass.

"You're going on your own?"

"Yeah. I'll be fine, don't worry."

"I don't think -"

"I just want some fresh air. Go on, go and enjoy the rest of the party."

Harry clearly realised that he was being dismissed and stood up. "If you get into trouble, send up red sparks. And be careful, there might still be Death Eaters around. And -"

"I'll see you later."

Harry nodded and turned back to the house while Hermione climbed over the fence at the end of the garden and headed off to the edge of the woods, to where she would meet Malfoy.

Hermione wrapped her cardigan around herself more tightly, hugging herself slightly for that extra bit of warmth. The cry of a fox made her jump, and she looked around sharply, wanting to make sure that it was _just_ a fox. She noticed a pair of eyes, slightly illuminated by the light of the moon. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and the fox darted away through a hedge.

She pressed on, not liking the idea of being outside alone, this late in the evening. She finally saw Malfoy sitting under one of the trees, back leaning against the trunk, obviously deep in thought. He looked up as he heard her approaching, twigs and leaves crunching under her feet. She didn't know why she'd agreed to this, she was overrun with fatigue. All she wanted to do was go back to the Burrow, wrap herself up in a blanket and fall asleep.

But, for some reason, she'd agreed to meet him.

She sat down cross legged in front of him, their toes roughly half a metre apart. Shivering as a particularly icy breeze blew threw the trees; Hermione pulled her cardigan tighter around herself, wishing he'd told her to meet him somewhere warm.

"What did you want?" Hermione asked finally, after Malfoy had said nothing. He shrugged and fiddled with the grass, not looking at her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, I just...oh forget it Granger," he said, standing up. Hermione grabbed his elbow and pulled him back down to the floor. "Go back to your party." Hermione shook her head. It was then that Hermione realised what was wrong, and she didn't know why she hadn't thought of it before. Malfoy was _lonely_. He had no one to talk to, no friends, no allies, no Slytherins, no teachers. _No one_. He had Voldemort, he had the other Death Eaters who didn't take him seriously because he was so young, a father who pushed the dark arts on him and pressured him into serving Voldemort, and a mother who he rarely saw. The only time he ever saw Hermione, he had to pretend to be fighting her, and anyone else who he met classed him as an enemy.

Hermione knew first hand what it was like to be lonely, but to be lonely and despised by most of the wizarding population, that was harsh. Yes, she'd received some hate mail after the Rita Skeeter episode in her forth year, but that was nothing when compared to this.

"So, how are you?" Hermione asked, once he had given in to her strong grip on his elbow, and leaned back against the tree once more. Malfoy snorted at the question.

"Spiffing," he replied sarcastically. Hermione counted to five in her head and tried again, allowing him a little more leeway than she would have done normally.

"Have you just been with him since I last saw you, or..."

"It's the only place I'm 'safe'. I'm a wanted wizard," he said all this very bitterly, not looking at her. "I'm a murderer, remember?" Hermione sighed, not knowing what to say. He obviously wanted to talk, but at the same time, he was so horribly reserved by his own nature that getting him to talk was almost as impossible as finding the last Horcrux. "Besides, the Dark Lord has plenty of jobs for me. 'Draco, why don't you go and fetch your father?' 'Draco, why don't you go and try and recruit some of your fellow Slytherins?' 'Draco, why don't you go out killing muggles?' 'Draco, why don't you bend over backwards so I can hex you if you breathe at the wrong moment?'" He sighed and Hermione watched him, a sad frown plaguing her features. "And I suppose etiquette dictates that I ask you how you are and what you've been doing." He allowed himself a small smirk and Hermione saw a flash of his normal self coming back once more. But what was his normal self? Was it the sarcastic, arrogant, bigoted little creep that he'd been throughout Hogwarts? Was it the Death Eater who didn't care about leading convicted murderers into his own school? Or was it the sarcastic, arrogant, but nevertheless slightly amusing ally that she'd come to know and...tolerate?

"Oh you know," Hermione told him airily, "This and that. Destroyed a Horcrux, forgot Harry's birthday, ergo, we got told off by Mrs Weasley..." she shrugged. It all seemed so insignificant. Yes, they'd destroyed the Horcrux, but there was a war going on around them, and all she could say she'd done was miss Harry's birthday. It was important to her and Ron of course, (Harry wasn't too bothered) but in the grand scheme of things, when muggles were still dying mysteriously and buildings were collapsing, it was completely insignificant.

"Did you know anything about Canary Wharf?" Hermione asked quietly, tip toeing round the subject.

"Of course I didn't." Malfoy replied quickly, getting defensive. "He was angry, so he just shot a load of spells off and the thing collapsed. Spur of the moment. It was a matter of seconds. There was nothing _anyone_ could have done. Let alone me." Hermione said nothing. "You still don't trust me, do you Granger?" Malfoy said after a while.

"I just can't help but feel like you're going to fuck me over on this."

"Language," Malfoy drawled, obviously not caring about her choice of vocabulary. Hermione was surprised that she herself, who normally never swore, didn't think twice about using such a word. Her mother had always said it showed a lack of vocabulary, but Hermione disagreed. Sometimes it _was_ the only way to express yourself.

"Well it's true," Hermione murmured. It was her who was breaking their eye contact this time. She felt bad for not trusting him, because after all, she had no reason not to trust him, but even so, there was still a niggling at the back of her mind which made her wonder if she was doing the right thing. In fact, the voice in her head was screaming at her to run away, that it was a trap, luring her here so he could kill her. The others would come looking for her after a while, and they'd be killed as well, and just like that, the tiny glimmer hope for the wizarding world would be extinguished, because she had no common sense whatsoever.

"Why don't you trust me though?" he asked her, not accusingly. His tone was more one of tired frustration. He just sounded completely fed up. He couldn't make sense of it, and neither could she, but that niggling at the back of her head hadn't ceased.

"I don't know," Hermione told him honestly. "Because so far you've lived up to what we agreed, and I _want_ to trust you..."

"So then trust me Granger, I saved your life for heaven's sake! Need I remind you, more than once!"

"Snape saved Harry's life in first year," Hermione reasoned, and Malfoy frowned.

"When?"

"That Quidditch match where Harry's broom almost threw him off. He saved Harry's life, even though Quirrell was trying to kill Harry, and Quirrell was following Voldemort's orders," Malfoy didn't react at all to hearing Voldemort's name, didn't even blink. "So he was working against Voldemort back then, but now look what's happened." Malfoy sighed, reluctantly accepting her point. He didn't think it was fair to be tarred with the same brush as Snape, but when trusting someone at this point in time was very dodgy business indeed, he couldn't _really_ blame her, and Hermione knew it.

"I think he's planning something big though," Malfoy told her, quickly changing the subject. Obviously he'd had enough of her lack of faith in him. Hermione's interest piqued and she felt much more awake than she had done when she'd first sat down with him. "I don't know what, he's not told anyone, but it feels like he's holding back, waiting for something else..."

"Are you sure none of the others know?" Hermione's voice dropped, so it was barely above a whisper. It was unintentional, but when talking about such things, one automatically tried to be as discreet as possible, even if the only potential eavesdroppers were twenty feet high, made of wood and covered in leaves.

"I don't think so. Father would have gloated to me if he knew something, same with Aunt Bella," Hermione shuddered at the thought of Bellatrix Lestrange being referred to as 'Aunt Bella'. It made her sound almost human. "And if the Dark Lord has told anyone, you can guarantee it'll be them." He fiddled with a large brown leaf, before tossing it aside and turning to look at Hermione. He didn't say anything, just watched Hermione as she frowned thoughtfully, her mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out what exactly Voldemort could be planning.

"He won't just go straight in and do it, will he?" Hermione asked, not needing an answer, more of an approval of her line of thought. Malfoy shook his head. "So, he's going to need people to carry it out." Malfoy inclined his head in a small nod. "So with any luck he'll ask you, or someone who'll tell you what's going on, and you'll be able to tell us."

"Not if I find out too late," Malfoy replied grimly. "And that's only if I find out at all." He looked down at the grass beside him, as his left hand ripped up chunks of it and let it fall to the ground, before repeating the action once more. Hermione watched him for a few seconds, noting that he was performing the same ritual that Harry had that very morning.

"In that case we'll just try and have to expect the unexpected," Hermione was remaining optimistic, but if she admitted any form of defeat, then it was suicide. She needed to be positive, because Harry had his low points, and even Ron did occasionally. She needed to say to them 'we can do this', and she knew that there would be no one there to say it to her if she felt like the world was falling to pieces around her. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder and saw two tall figures talking just outside the Burrow. Judging by their outlines, which were lit up quite brilliantly by the half moon it was Harry and Ron.

They were looking around them, as though trying to find something. Hermione's eyes widened as she realised she'd probably been gone for three quarters of an hour at least.

"What?" Malfoy questioned, upon hearing her sharp intake of breath.

"You need to go," she hissed quickly. Malfoy looked up and saw Harry and Ron, who had their backs to them for the moment. Malfoy quickly got to his feet and moved around the side of the tree so he couldn't be seen by Harry and Ron, but was still able to talk to Hermione.

"I'll owl you if I find anything more. I might do a bit of digging, see what I can find."

"Don't put yourself in danger," Hermione told him emphatically.

"Oh come on, Granger, the whole world's in danger no matter what they do." Hermione silently agreed, but it didn't ease her worry. She glanced over to where Harry and Ron were, and they were now looking in Hermione's direction. She wasn't sure if they'd seen her yet, but she wasn't prepared to take any chances.

"I'll see you soon, Draco." Malfoy looked at her curiously for a second, but quickly hid any change in expression. He nodded and disappeared through the trees, amazing Hermione with how quietly he could navigate his way through the darkness, barely making a sound.

After she was absolutely certain he had gone, Hermione got up, smoothed down her cardigan and made her way towards the two boys.

You've been gone a long while," Harry said to her.

"You all right?" Ron asked, surprising both Hermione, and Harry by the looks of it with his soft tone of voice.

"Fine. Come on, let's get inside, it's getting chilly."

* * *


	11. Chapter Ten: Out of Towners

**A/N: **New chapter! Huzzah for more regular updates! It's not as long as previous chapters, but I felt I'd reached an appropriate place to finish this chapter and decided to use it. There's a companion piece to this story, it shows Draco's side of things from last chapter, you can find it via my profile and it's called Shiver. (Somebody review it pretty please, it's been sitting there with no reviews) and I've also got an unrelated Dramione called Colourful Plastic. After all those plugs, you may now move on to read, review, and enjoy.

* * *

**By Any Other Name.**

**by Flaignhan.**

* * *

Chapter Ten: Out of Towners.

They ended up spending almost a week at The Burrow, partly because Mrs Weasley wouldn't let them disappear again without having been fed a lot of well cooked meals, and partly because they were at a loss as to where they should go next in search of the last (bar Nagini) Horcrux. They also needed to destroy the locket, and Hermione would bet her life that they would be able to get rid of it in the same way that they had destroyed the cup, and the same way in which Dumbledore had destroyed the ring.

However, there was one small problem. The clasp on the chain of the locket would not open. In fact, it wouldn't budge an inch. Hermione was also willing to bet her life on there being protective enchantments surrounding the locket; it was far too small to fit over anybody's head without being the chain being undone, so that left them with a slight problem.

"We could always use Kreacher, he's got a small head, and he'd be no great loss to the world," Ron suggested.

"Ron! How can you say that? You're just another high and mighty wizard that forgets that elves aren't objects to be played with, they're living creatures! Forgetting that will only lead to problems!"

"He killed Sirius though! He doesn't deserve to -"

"House elves don't think the same way we do, Ron! Kreacher wasn't loyal to Sirius, he was loyal to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! Sirius had been disowned a long time ago, so when Bellatrix and Narcissa came to him for help -"

"He was only too happy to give it," Harry completed her sentence for her through gritted teeth. "I think we should leave tomorrow."

"Where to?"

"Godric's Hollow. We'll be able to concentrate on those enchantments when we're there. Maybe you should pay another visit to Knockturn Alley, Hermione, try and get some books about dark protective spells."

"I'll try, but I've got a feeling that somehow, any spells on that locket won't be in any books that we find."

"Worth a try though, don't you think?"

Hermione smiled, not wanting to seem pessimistic. Try as she might, she couldn't seem to convince herself that Voldemort would have just picked a few spells out of a book to protect one of his most prized possessions. Arrogance was undoubtedly Voldemort's downfall, so hopefully he was arrogant to the extent that he didn't think anybody would be able to get their hands on the locket in the first place.

* * *

_D -  
_

_Need your help. Protective enchantments. Any useful books you know of?  
_

_-H_

She received a reply the following evening. She was in the bath at Godric's Hollow, and the owl fluttered through the open window, dropping the letter onto the bath mat and flying off without expecting a reply.

_H -  
_

_Flourish and Blotts have an excellent range. Tell the manager you're collecting an order.  
_

_-D  
_

_P.S. Watch your step, he's sending out more and more of us to track you and your two idiot friends, it's getting dangerous. _

Hermione snorted. 'Getting dangerous'? It had always been dangerous! Nevertheless, she was grateful for the heads up.

* * *

"I'm going to see about those books, I don't know how much I'll be able to find, but I'll try. I'll be back in an hour."

"That means five," Ron said under his breath to Harry, who tried, and failed to keep a straight face.

"Do you really think it' a good idea to be hanging around in a place full of dark wizards for longer than necessary?" Hermione asked, hands on hips. "I like to think that I'm slightly more intelligent than that. Especially when Voldemort knows we're not just spending our summer lying on a beach or playing Quidditch. Honestly, you boys."

"We should come with you." Ron said, suddenly serious. Harry nodded in agreement.

"You two are far more noticeable than I am. I'll just slip in and out and no one will be any the wiser. You'll just attract attention. I'll see you later."

She turned on the spot before they could say another word and suddenly she was being pushed around by people rushing to get their shopping in Diagon Alley.

Hermione made her way through the crowds to Flourish and Blotts, giving up on her 'excuse me's and 'sorry's after thirty seconds when she realised that nobody was listening to her and manners had taken a back seat now that Voldemort had returned to full power. She still tried to avoid people, but once she realised that she was getting pushed further and further back towards Ollivander's, she lost her patience and barged through the crowds, finally managing to get to the bookshop, slightly out of breath from her energetic journey that had essentially only been a walk of approximately fifty feet.

She went up to the counter nervously and the dark haired owner spotted her. "Ah, Miss Granger," he said quietly. "These are for you." He pulled a large brown paper bag out from under the counter and handed it to her.

It was heavy. There had to be at least four bulky books in the bag, and perhaps a few smaller ones. Hermione tapped the bag with her wand and it shrunk to the size of a small box of matches. She slipped it into the pocket of her coat.

"We've got some new additions to the shop," the owner told her. "There has been a big boom in Defence Against the Dark Arts books, due to, well, You-Know-Who, if you're interested. And we've also got _An Advanced Study of Ancient Runes_ by Damien Luthridge. And Miranda Goshawk has just released _The Standard Book of Spells Grade Eight: An Advanced Course_. Would you care to take a look?"

Hermione bit her lip. Surely it wouldn't hurt to take a look…_The Standard Book of Spells Grade Eight_ would undoubtedly contain advanced spells that were way beyond anything they'd learn at Hogwarts, and maybe they could do with a couple of books about defence…

* * *

"There you are!" Ron jumped up from his seat, and walked over to Hermione. "Where've you been?"

"I might have taken a slight detour," Hermione answered in a small voice.

"Harry! She's back!" Ron called, directing his voice towards the bedroom.

Harry appeared a few seconds later, standing in the doorway, his hands on his hips. "You'll just slip in and out, eh?" he said to her, slightly accusingly.

"Well I went to Flourish and Blotts too, and then I got talking to Benedict -"

"_Who?_" Ron demanded.

"Benedict. He's the owner. He's really very nice you know. Anyway, he showed me some of the new books that they'd got in and I picked up some really useful books on defence and I got _The Standard Book of Spells Grade Eight_. Grade eight is above NEWT level, there's bound to be loads of useful stuff in there. Stuff that even the Death Eaters might not know. I thought it'd be a good idea to get it."

"Did you get anything about protection spells?" Harry asked, and Hermione frowned at him, because he clearly thought that she'd been so distracted by a few new books that she forgot what she'd gone to look for in the first place.

Hermione pulled the small brown package from her pocket and enlarged it back to its original size. She emptied the bag out onto the sofa and four large books fell out of it, as well as a small book, which had roughly the same dimensions as a pocket dictionary.

"Blimey! Where d'you find all that?" Ron asked, touching the battered leather covers of the books with his fingertips. He seemed to be slightly wary of the books, and Hermione had to admit that they were making the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

The pages had yellowed with age and were slightly crispy when she turned them. They were thick, and had been written on by hand and then, Hermione guessed there was more than one of each book, duplicated. They were heavy. Even the small one weighed quite a lot, perhaps the same as a large can of soup. The books had thick hard covers which again, had been made by hand, with gold or silver leaf lettering on the front of them. All of the titles had faded slightly, and one had even worn away completely. Hermione didn't think she'd ever been near books as old as these in her life, and she felt as though she should wear a pair of gloves, so she didn't get finger marks on the pages.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon, then the evening, and most of the night devouring the information in each of the books. She slotted coloured pieces of paper in between the pages to mark any useful spells, with notes written at the top of her markers, so she would be able to find each spell quickly and without much fuss.

The frantic research was making her feel like she was at school again and she adored it. Even though her research revolved around dark magic, it brought back a feeling of innocence and uncomplicatedness which she had missed in the last few months. Writing the notes provided a welcome destruction from all that was going on, and she started to become engrossed in all the information that she came across, filing it away and storing it in her brain for when she would need it next.

At one point, she didn't really know when, because she had lost track of the time, Hermione found the spell which left her in St Mungo's. It was called the Tamanigo Curse and Hermione blanched when she saw the diagrams. She thanked Merlin that Draco had turned up at her bedside with an antidote because the thought of her becoming like the drawing the book made her want to vomit.

Hermione managed to keep herself from being sick and decided that she should get some rest and continue in the morning. With a yawn, she got up, went to the bathroom and changed into her pyjamas. Once she was curled up in the armchair, surrounded by her sleeping bag, sleep came quickly to her.

She slept uneasily. Her head was filled with diagrams from the books, which came to life with their varying curses, each more gruesome and grotesque than the last. Hermione awoke several times, breathing heavily and covered in a thin film of sweat.

Ron's snoring, which had in the past driven her to the brink of insanity, was now a consistent and comforting lullaby which helped her drift back into sleep.

* * *

"If the curse that was on the cup is in there -"

"Then the spell on the locket might be in there too." Hermione finished Harry's sentence.

"And have you found anything?"

"Well it's a bit difficult. It's only a stuck clasp, and there's nothing specific about that in here. It doesn't appear to have any side effects, which does narrow it down quite a bit, but on the other hand it might have side effects which we haven't come across yet."

"I still think we should just put it on Kreacher and be done with it."

Harry sent Ron a glare and Hermione knew that it was more to do with the fact that Ron's comment would cause her to start lecturing him about house elves than it was to do with any concern for Kreacher's welfare. Hermione pretended she hadn't heard Ron, and picked up the pocket sized book.

"This is probably the most irrelevant but most useful book out of the lot of them," she told Harry as she flicked through the pages of the book absentmindedly. "It's all about wards with no known counter curses - of course it was written hundreds of years ago and counter curses could have been invented since, but they're very tricky spells and, I imagine, even trickier to counter. I don't think any of the spells have been used on the Horcruxes, because the book talks more about buildings than objects."

"What, so it's got stuff like the Fidelius Charm?" Harry asked.

"The Fidelius Charm means relying on a third party. Dark wizards don't like to rely on anybody. These are spells which need one person and one person alone to make them work."

"So basically," Ron began, "you still don't know what the spell on the locket is."

Hermione turned to look at Ron with a steely expression on her face.

"Sorry, that came out wrong. I'm just trying to clarify what you know and what you don't."

Hermione set the small book down on the coffee table, picked up her coat, put it on and left the house without saying a word to the two boys.

She walked around the village for half an hour, mostly to calm herself down and get away from Ron, but also so she could ponder the spells which could possibly be the ones that Voldemort used on the locket.

On her third walk around the village, after she had stopped off at the small shop to buy some bread and milk, she caught a flash of platinum blonde hair in the corner of her eye. Hermione whirled around and saw that Malfoy was leaning against the wall of the pub, looking thoroughly bored, checking his watch.

He looked up and spotted her. He mouthed the word 'Go!' at her, nodding towards the pub as if to say that there was someone else in there. Hermione was about to leave when she remembered the books that Malfoy had provided for her. She opened and closed her palms as if they were a book and then nodded, giving him the thumbs up. He seemed curious for a moment, as though he wanted to talk about what the books contained, then glanced towards the door again as the interior door of the pub creaked and he mouthed even more urgently for her to go.

Hermione nodded and turned on her heel, walking away quickly, but not running, knowing full well that if she ran it would attract attention.

* * *

"Death Eaters," Hermione said breathlessly once she had got back to Godric's Hollow. She had started sprinting once she was sure nobody was around to see her.

"What?"

"In the village, we need to leave. Where's the tent?"

"How many? Can't we take them on?" Ron stood up, wand in his hand.

"Oh what, so Voldemort can send more? There's just two, but we need to get out of here. We need to make it seem like we were never here in the first place."

Harry nodded and went about gathering his things, shrinking them and putting them in his backpack. Ron quickly followed suit and Hermione began shrinking all of her books as quickly as she could, throwing them with a little less care than she normally would have taken into her own bag.

They were about to disapparate when Harry shouted for them to stop. "What about the house? What if they find it? Voldemort knows where it is, so does Wormtail. What if they…"

"Harry, all we can do is lock it up."

"But you put the Fidelius Charm on your house, couldn't you -"

"Professor Flitwick did that. I'm sorry Harry, I know a few protective enchantments but they can be broken without much effort."

"What about the ones you read about last night?" Harry asked desperately, now clutching at straws. "You said they were useful."

"Harry you can't expect me to get dark magic right the first time around. And even if I did, what if Lupin comes looking for us? What will happen to him? I might do more damage than good if I get the spell wrong Harry."

"But it's my mum and dad's -"

"I _know_," Hermione said imploringly, stepping forward and placing a hand on Harry's shoulder. "But there's nothing we can do and we haven't got much time."

"Couldn't you try?"

Hermione sighed. "I can try a vanishing charm, but I'm not sure how long it'll last. The most I've ever done is a goblet, a house is going to take a lot more."

"Please, Hermione."

"Let's get outside then."

They moved out into the front garden, past the wooden gate and onto the street. "Keep watch for anyone, Death Eater or muggle, we've got the statute of secrecy to think about." Hermione rolled up her sleeves and drew her wand. "Evanesco!"

The house vanished for a moment, but then it flickered and reappeared. The small feeling of accomplishment disappeared along with Hermione's smile. She tried again, and again, and it wasn't until her sixth try that the house vanished and stayed vanished.

"You will be able to get it back, won't you?" Ron asked, frowning slightly at the vacant plot of land in front of them.

"Of course I will," Hermione replied. "I'm not stupid enough to vanish something I can't get back. Besides, it might not last much longer than a couple of days, so it might just reappear on its own. It's difficult with it being that size, it's really hard to judge. Normally people just vanish small things, like cobwebs or if something's spilled. It's more of a household charm really."

"Let's go," Harry said, tearing his eyes away from the place where his parents' house used to be and looking around for any sign of people. He grabbed Ron and Hermione by the arm and turned on the spot, dragging them into the darkness with him.

* * *

They appeared in a small clearing. For a moment, Hermione thought it was the Forbidden Forest, but then realised that it wasn't dense enough to be the Forbidden Forest. The trees were younger and there wasn't that uneasy feeling that drowned you when you were in the Forbidden Forest.

"Where are we?" Hermione whispered, not wanting to disturb the silence too much.

"Sherwood Pines," Harry replied in an equally low whisper. "My Aunt and Uncle brought Dudley here ages ago. I really wanted to go. I spent the three days with Mrs Figg instead."

Hermione felt a pang of sympathy for Harry, and regretted all the letters she had sent to him from France in the summer before third year telling him every detail about her holiday and how brilliant it was when he had always been excluded from holidays.

Harry pulled the tent out of his rucksack and enlarged it. He started to mess around with the poles but Hermione gestured for him to stand back.

"Erecto!" The tent put itself up in a flurry of poles, canvas and rope and Harry's eyebrows raised slightly.

"Nice one," he said, picking up the rucksacks and ducking in through the tent flaps so he could put them inside.

"Don't you think this is a bit…exposed?" Ron asked, looking around nervously.

"No. I'll put up some shield charms and a disillusionment charm on the tent. We should be all right. We'll have to keep moving though, they might track us down."

"Depends who's using the brain cell for that day. They have to pass it round, you see."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Voldemort's in charge of them and Voldemort's got plenty of brain cells, I think you'll find. And now that you point it out, not all the Death Eaters are stupid. Foolish, maybe, but not stupid. You can hardly say Snape's lacking in intelligence, or Bellatrix. Even Draco's quite smart."

"_Draco?_" Harry reappeared from the tent flaps. "Since when do you call him _Draco?_"

"I thought it would save the inevitable question of 'which Malfoy?' if I used his first name as opposed to his surname," Hermione responded icily, rapping the top of the tent with her wand and watching as it seemed to melt away into the background.

"I'll go and get us some food supplies" Harry said, digging into his pocket to see what he had in the way of muggle money. It transpired that he had very little. He turned to Hermione. "Have you got any spare cash? I'll square up with you when I get some galleons exchanged at Gringotts."

Hermione nodded. And reached into her own pocket, pulling out a small purse. She opened it and extracted a few tightly folded notes, then handed them to Harry.

"Shall I get tinned stuff? So it'll keep?"

"I can do a preserving charm that'll make things last a week or two longer, so it doesn't really matter. And make sure you know exactly where to apparate back to. That'd be a fine mess up if you can't find us again."

"Will one of you wait out here? So I can see you? I won't be able to see the tent so I need something to look out for if I miss by a bit."

"Yeah, I'll wait out. Don't be too long though, it's cold."

"Get used to it," Harry said. "We'll need to keep watch during the night. See you." He disappeared with a quiet _pop_.

"Hermione," Ron was frowning at her, his nose slightly scrunched up. "Malfoy's not _smart!_"

Hermione tutted and chivvied him into the tent with instructions to start unshrinking her books.

* * *


End file.
